It's About Time
by Relic
Summary: Modern! All the boys are here, getting ready to fight a new evil: Principal Adlam and his increasing tyranny. But can they get out of their cliques and past their differences in order to fight the greater evil? Fights, angst and fun for everyone!
1. Cast List

**Here's the Cast List for 'It's About Time', because a cast this size gets really confusing, really easily! Characters are noted by original clique and owner/character. Indicates supporting characters. **

**Gentlemen: **

**Jocks **

Dave Maltic- Pie Eater

Francis 'Jack' Sullivan- Himself

Marty Bowen- Crutchy

Robert Young- Snoddy

**Preps **

Aaron Chapman- Mush

Freddy Davidson- Snaps

Trey Williams- Kid Blink

**Punks **

Dom Kilks- Itey

Mark Taylor- Specs

**Goths **

Kevin Sylt- Swifty

Michael Richards- Skittery

**Drama **

Dominic Adelio- Bumlets

**Honors **

David Jacobs- Himself

Dee Martin- Snitch

**Delinquents **

Gabe Roades- Spot Conlon

James O'Leary- Himself (Smalls)

Oscar Von Stefan- Oscar Delancey

Morris Von Stefan- Morris Delancey

**Racer **

Max Salvatore- Racetrack

**Band Geek **

Ivan Hortes- Dutchy

Joe Pikes- Jake

**Thug **

Arvie Burgh- Boots

**Freshmen **

Les Jacobs- Himself

Matt Shikes- Snipeshooter

**Ladies: **

**Cheerleaders **

Chloe Cormac - Trinket

Rose Stokes – Knots

Elizabeth Boyd - Princess (Stretch)

Elizabeth Hale - Smalls

Mia Isabella Tortulo – Raven

Sarah Fitz - Echo

**Jocks **

Tara Quinn – Spin

**Preps **

Aurelia Parker – Martini

Lindsey McDonnell – Apple (Lute)

Laura Smith - Socks

Sarah Davis – Sprints

Trish Williams- 'Ershey

**Punks **

Andrianne DeMarco – Juni

Elise Grey – Marbles

Tina Winters- Hades

**Goths **

Cydney McDevitt - Punky

Joanna Feldman – Skater

**Drama **

Ashleigh Bennett - Mayfly

**Honors **

Justine Burgh - Fang

**Delinquents **

Melody Steffanson – Bittah

**Groupies **

Maggie McCaffee – Dreamer

Vincenza Bellachini – Half Pint

**Racers **

Hannah Audley – Spunk

Phyllis Emmery Abigail Victoria Ingles – Filly

**Band Geek **

Jessa Lynch – Stress

Gabrielle Adler- Blaze

Alyssa Ballanger – Cookie

**Thug **

Kristen Bowen – Mousie

**School Gambler **

Jessica Andrews – Bookie

**Body Guard of School Gambler **

Raevyn Von Stefan – Raye

**Freshman **

Ginger Larson – Sweet Tart


	2. Prologue

**((Disclaimer: 'Newsies' doesn't belong to me, as will none of the actors/Newsies mentioned in this story, in the chapters to follow this. All the girls belong to themselves!))  
**

**((Authors Note: Hello everyone! This is my first attempt at a modern-day fic, and it should be a lot of fun! This chapter is just the introduction, so no boys yet, but they'll start filtering in during the next chapter!))  
**

_"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."  
_

That's how the story went. But any teenager attending Medgerick High School in the year 2006 would tell you to forget the former, and just focus on the latter. Because if you planned on staying at Medgerick High, you were going to have to get used to the idea that every morning would be a constant struggle, and every afternoon bell a small victory. As far as the students were concerned, Medgerick High was Hell.

Of course, it hadn't always been that way. In fact, Medgerick High was once the state's most celebrated High School. A large school, with state of the art equipment in classrooms, an entire wing devoted to the library, and the best coaches for sports around, Medgerick students had a lot to be proud of. Medgerick was located in Midtown, Manhattan, close to the Empire State building and the New York Public Library, and brought in students from all different walks of life. At the groundbreaking ceremony in 1994, the young, newly appointed principal, Mr. Klein, had this to say:

"I stand before you, proud that this day has finally come. I grew up in Brooklyn, myself, and know from experience how badly the boroughs are in need of good, strong public education. Medgerick will not only have that, it will also harbor a safe, open learning environment where students can get together and forge friendships over interests, not circumstances."

And, for the first four years, things at Medgerick stayed true to Principal Klein's words. Students branched out, cliques that were made at different middle schools and junior highs disbanded and the kids began to mix with other students with true similar interests. Crime was minimal, and the academic level of the students was the highest in the state.

But like they always say, all good things must come to an end. Over the summer 2002, Principal Klein was offered a position as superintendent of the District, which he graciously accepted. The students mourned the loss of their principal, but were excited to find out who their new principal would be and what changes he would bring. However, they had no idea of the bad things that were in store for them.

His name was Gobelo Adlam, he told the students of Medgerick High at their first-day pep-assembly. Born and raised in Germany, he had moved over from his noble country to further his education at the New York University, and after graduation, decided to stay on. For many years he taught in various High Schools throughout Wisconsin ('Many, many years,' some of the students remarked, noting his very gray hair and mustache, and wrinkled skin), before finally moving up to Principal at one of them. Though he had enjoyed that school immensely, he went on, he dropped it the moment he received the offer of Principal at the renowned 'Medgerick High School'. He was very eager to learn about the students, and the school, he said. What he meant, the students later realized, was that he was very eager to _change_ the students, and the school.

He started small. A few new rules, tighter dress code restrictions, new teaching policies. But over the year he became more and more emphatic about changing things, and by fall of 2002, a full uniform was required, curriculum was hand-picked by Principal Adlam and teachers were forced to teach it directly from the books, with no sort of 'extras', as he called it.

As the classes became monotone and completely boring, and the students began having difficulty telling each other apart, cliques began to form based on extracurricular activities, as no one really bothered to choose classes that sounded interesting any more, knowing they wouldn't be. Sports players began to only talk to other sports players, developing a sort of 'dumb jock' demeanor as they brought out much of the mean qualities in each other that was good on the field or court, but bad in every day life. Honors students began to only talk to other honors students, and became rather snobby, looking down on anyone who didn't have an all-advanced placement schedule. Gothics hung out with gothics, preppies with preppies, and so on.

Over the next two years crime picked up in the school, as different crowds began to clash and fight, usually over differences of opinions, lost items, or the 'stealing' of a significant other. Principal Adlam was too busy to notice any of this, however, as he had gone on a 'banning' campaign. First went the electronic devices, then came locker decorations, food bought outside the cafeteria, and finally, 'inappropriate' literature. He spent much of the summer before the 2006-2007 term combing through the school library and tossing out all the books he found 'unsuitable'. By the time he was done, half the library was empty.

Yep, as far as Principal Adlam was concerned, everything was going his way. Until one day, all that changed...

**((That's all for now! Please leave a review and tell me what you think!))**


	3. Welcome to Medgerick, Davey

**((Authors Note- Hey, welcome to the fic! Check it out and don't forget to review so that I know that you're reading it! Review replies at the bottom, as well as a sneak preview at the next chapter! And the Cast List is the first chapter of this fic, so don't forget to look there if you get confused by who's who!)) **

* * *

"Your name, Son?" The elderly lady behind the large table asked, snapping David out of his reverie.

"David Jacobs," he answered, shaking his head a bit. This school was not only new to him, but also completely, utterly foreign. The bare white walls, the students walking down the halls in identical uniforms; he had nothing like this at his old school.

The woman handed him a class schedule, along with a locker combination and number. He felt the dread in his stomach deepen as he realized he would never be able to find any of his classes in this huge school. Someone in the line pushed him from behind, telling him to move on.

"Keep your pants on, you'll all get your schedules!" the lady yelled, making David blink in surprise. She shifted back to her original quiet, soft demeanor an instant later, smiling at him. "Dee Martin will be your student guide. The school appoints them to all new students, to help them get their footing, so to speak."

There was a moment of silence, before the woman's voice bellowed out, "Dee Martin, get over here!"

David watched as a boy about his height, with dark brown hair cut rather short and styled very neatly, and brown eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles, jumped up from the seat where he'd previously been pouring over a text book. The boy regained his composure and strode over, taking David's free hand and shaking it quickly before ushering him away from the line of agitated students.

"Dee Martin, pleasure to meet you! David Jacobs, I assume? I read all about you! Fascinating, really, going to a boarding school in Switzerland since you were eleven! How was that? And why on earth did you move here?" The boy, Dee, asked, leading David out the door of the large gymnasium.

"It was Sweden, actually," David said dryly, his 'guide' already starting to rub him the wrong way. "And I moved because my parents divorced and my father gained custody of my brother and me. He wanted to get to 'get to know us' or some such load of bull. Speaking of, there's my brother now. Les!"

A short boy up the hallway with mousy brown hair and light brown eyes (the very same as David's, in fact) stopped and turned around, then began to wave madly and run towards him.

"David! David! I've got my classes and everything, and a great guide! He says he'll even introduce me to all the hoes!" Les paused for a moment. "David, what's a ho?"

"Heh, heh, what a kidder," another short boy laughed nervously, coming up behind Les and eyeing David's murderous look. The boy was wearing a baseball cap and white slacks complimented with bright red boxers beneath them. "Matt Shikes, pleased to meet you."

"Baseball caps are against uniform codes, Kid," Dee snapped, frowning at the freshman.

"What, you gonna rat on me if I don't take it off?" Matt asked in a rather mocking tone. Then, deciding against staying and getting into a fight with a senior on his first day, he nodded to Les. "Come on, let's go to our first class."

The two boys took off down the halls, and David looked over at Dee, eyebrow raised. "What did he mean, about you 'ratting' on him?"

"Nothing, just some annoying little freshman," Dee shrugged, turning and heading down the hall. "You know, you're really lucky to have me as a guide. I'm the big man on campus around here. Trust me, at this school, what I say-"

He was cut off as a girl standing by a locker a bit in front of them swung her arm out, apparently not seeing him, and caught him right in the neck, knocking him onto the floor.

"Whoa, sorry dude!" the girl said, reaching down to help Dee up as the people around them began to laugh, David included.

"Looks like someone finally caught the snitch," a tall boy with bright blue eyes (though one was covered with an eye patch), and short, spiked blonde hair smirked, as he came up behind the girl and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Who's your friend? A squealer in training?"

"My name," David said loudly, narrowing his eyes at the boy, "is David Jacobs. I'm new here. And I don't even know what a 'squealer' is, unless it's one of those funny little names you Americans use for pigs."

The boy narrowed his eye back, seeming to think for a moment before responding. "New, huh? Take my advice, _David_, and ditch this loser," he motioned toward Dee, "Before it's too late. Don't want to be caught up in the wrong crowd at Medgerick."

With that he led his girlfriend, who managed one last, "sorry, kid!" before moving out of sight. The rest of the crowd followed behind them, saying things like 'snitch' and 'loser' as they passed.

"'You Americans'?" Dee asked, looking rather curious.

"I was raised in Sweden. Old habits die hard," David shrugged, before crossing his arms. "Big man on campus?"

"I am!" Dee exclaimed, before turning a tinge red. "Okay, so there are a couple guys above me, but only a couple, and not by much!"

"And he was one of them, I take it?" David asked, beginning down the hallway again.

"Yeah, but not the top. His name's Trey Williams, he pretty much leads the preps at this school. I mean, did you see the way they followed him? Like little minions," he shook his head, rubbing his neck a bit. "And that iron giant of a girl that just clothes-lined me was his girlfriend, Tara Quinn. Soccer, Basketball and Softball Varsity, and in her off season she trains in boxing. An accident waiting to happen, that one is. Did you see that patch he was wearing? I heard she accidentally elbowed him last week and gave him a hideous black eye."

"Your sympathy is touching," David muttered dryly, looking at the glee on Dee's face as he made a mental note never to make Tara Quinn angry. "So if he's not "on top" of the school, who is?"

"That, my friend, is what I'm about to show you." Dee grinned, leading him up to the front doors of the school and pointing out through the glass.

David blinked in surprise. Outside there was a large group of people slowly moving towards the school, talking and laughing loudly. He noticed one boy in particular, in the middle of the crowd, who appeared to be involved in almost every conversation. "Is that him?"

Dee nodded, looking rather impressed. "Yeah, how'd you guess?" Without waiting for a response, he went on. "His real name is Francis Sullivan, but _don't_ call him that. Around here, he's just known as Jack. He's gotten more sports trophies for this school than anyone; he won't let you forget it, either. This school is pretty much at his command this year."

"Why is that?" David asked, studying 'Jack' intensely through the glass doors. He didn't look like anything particularly special; short brown hair and caramel eyes, standing at maybe 6'1. He figured the chiseled features the boy had probably caused him to be tagged as handsome by the girls, but extraordinary? He just couldn't see it.

"I keep forgetting you're not from the states!" Dee exclaimed, before sighing as if David had just asked him to explain why two plus two equaled four. "Sports equal money for schools, David. And the more money we have coming in, the better equipment, club funding, and books we get. Not to mention teachers' salaries. So with Jack leading our teams to victory all the time, he brings in a lot of money to the school, thus we're all in his debt. Of course, it helps that he's dominated the class since grade school."

"Oh," David shrugged, before raising an eyebrow. "Hey, why does everyone keep calling you a 'snitch' and a 'rat'?"

"Heh, pet names," Dee said, laughing nervously. When he saw the hard look on David's face, he sighed. "All right, so I make people follow the rules, what's so bad about that?"

Before David could answer, the bell rang, and Dee sighed in relief at the interruption. "Class time, let's go!"

Classes were rather uneventful and a complete waste of time, in David's opinion. The curriculum was completely simple, and the teachers were all either inept at teaching or as bored as the students. In fact, he was sure the only knowledge he had gained during his first four classes was that the boy with the eye patch, Trey, had given him valuable advice; for it was rather obvious that at this school, whichever clique you belonged to was your complete identity.

It had taken him awhile to begin to distinguish people, as they were all dressed exactly the same, but after he did, it became painstakingly obvious who went where. There was the group that wore mohawks, spikes or different colors in their hair, and safety pins in their various book bags. There was the group that wore more black make up than he knew existed, and sat in the back. There was the group led by Trey, who generally all had a cell phone attached to their ear. And there was the group led by 'Jack', who were, for the most part, loud and rambunctious.

He was sure there were more, but for four classes into his first day, he thought he was doing all right. He had been lucky enough to have the same schedule as Dee (who bothered him less and less as the day went on; though, it was probably because he became less and less cocky), so he hadn't had any problems, so far.

"Lunch time!" Dee exclaimed, grinning and slamming his book shut as the bell sounded. "Lucky we got last lunch, so no promise of sitting through three long classes after we eat!"

"Right, just two long classes," David said dryly, picking up his books and following Dee out of the classroom.

"At lunch I'll introduce you to everyone. You've probably already seen them, they're in most of your classes. Honors kids, that's what they call us." Dee laughed, shaking his head as he made his way down the long, crowded hallway. "As if it's supposed to offend us... It's better than being a delinquent!"

"What did you say, you little punk?" a girl asked, seeming to come out of no where as she lunged forward and grabbed Dee's arm, twisting it behind his back and slamming him into a locker.

"Melody, what a pleasure. I was just telling my new friend, here, about the lovelier parts of the student body, so of course, you and your friends were the first to come up," Dee managed, looking rather calm for someone with a cheek pressed up onto a locker.

David's eyes widened as the girl looked over at him, nostrils flaring. Wearing black, baggy pants and a T-shirt that had ' Brooklyn' sprawled across the front, she obviously didn't care about the dress code. He noticed with a start that her short hair appeared to be bright blue, and would have been curious if not for the feeling of impending doom brought on by her glare. He noticed, fleetingly, that she probably would have been rather pretty with her blue-grey and fair features, if she didn't look so completely scary.

After a long moment of silence (with an occasional cough from Dee, whose eyes were bulging as his arm slid higher and higher up his back), she nodded at David, before looking back at Dee. "He'll be one of yours. I just came over to tell you that thanks to your little 'anonymous note' to Mr. Hines about who took his missing Back to School Quizzes, I got detention for a month."

"Sorry as I am about that," Dee said, looking as though he was holding back a smirk, "It's not like it really matters. You have your own desk in there, anyway. It was only a matter of hours before you got detention for something on your own, such as dress code violations, or violence against other students."

David winced as Melody pulled Dee back a bit, and slammed him back into the locker. "Watch your back, you little weasel. And don't bother checking your car, I already slit the tires. I'd suggest keeping your knowledge to yourself, from now on."

She let him go and turned, walking down the hall brusquely. Dee rubbed his arm, before shouting at her retreating back, "But Melody! If I did that, then we wouldn't be able to carry on these meetings that I've come to hold so dear over the past years! You wouldn't want to take that away from me, would you?"

A single finger in the air from her signaled his answer to that question. Shrugging, he turned to David. "That was Melody Steffanson. She's been in my class since kindergarten. We go through that routine about once a week. Once I had my head in the locker, trying to find my Calculus Book, and she walked by and slammed the door. I advise you to stay away from her and her friends, at all costs."

"Yeah, I'll definitely do that," David nodded, before following Dee into the bustling cafeteria.

"So here's some things every student at Medgerick should know, if they want to last a year," Dee said, grabbing a tray and standing in the line. "First of all, once you're in a clique, stay there. Change is unacceptable at good ol' Medgerick. Second, don't steal a girl from another clique. I'm just telling you now, so don't say I didn't warn you. The cheerleaders may be pretty, but their boyfriends certainly are not. And most of them pop steroids like chocolate, so I advise you again to stay away. Same goes with the prep girls."

"The girls 'pop steroids'?" David asked, before shaking his head at the man behind the counter who was offering a particularly disgusting looking green substance.

"No, their boyfriends, dummy. Anyway," Dee went on, handing his money to the woman at the cash register and waiting for David to do the same. "Over there, that's my table, the honors kids."

David looked over at the table full of kids, most with paper bag lunches, books and binders and notebooks placed in neat stacks all over the table. Most of the people there were writing or in deep discussion. Then Dee's finger moved to a table filled with what looked to be young models, though he couldn't distinguish them. The boys, for the most part, had short, bleached blonde hair and a tall, decent build, while the girls had long, blonde or brunette hair, and similar makeup.

"Over there are the preppies, who you've already had the pleasure of meeting. They mix with the jocks at times, since some do play sports, but they tend to stick to sports like swimming and basketball, and are generally more interested in the latest fashion than a winning touch down. They get good grades, but half of them cheat." Dee turned, and nodded over at a dark table in the corner as the two made their way over to his table. The students at the table all seemed to have black hair, and quite a bit of black makeup. "Those are the gothics. If you ever feel suicidal and need something to push you over the edge, go ask one of them about their view on the world. Very talented writers and artists, for the most part. When they care to do an assignment."

"Punks are over there," Dee continued, pointing to a table on the far side of the cafeteria that was filled with people jumping and yelling and laughing. David recognized some of them as the kids who had all the safety pins in their bags in his classes. "They're just like their name, but don't tell anyone I said that. They live for chaos, as I'm sure you noticed when the one, Tina is her name, jumped on the desk and sang during Physics? They're not shy, that's for sure."

"Hey, who is this, Dee?" a pretty girl with shoulder length, straight black hair and black eyes asked, smiling as Dee took a seat next to her. "Wait, don't tell me, you're David."

"You've heard of me?" David asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat down on the other side of Dee.

The girl smiled. " Dee hasn't stopped talking about you since he found out he'd be your guide, last week. It bordered a bit on obsession, really; we were starting to get worried."

"Ah ha ha," Dee laughed dryly, stabbing his mashed potatoes. "Thanks for the background, Justine, I'm sure he needed to know all that."

"Oh, I've got more. Your guide here is a regular legend. Last year, they even tried to string him up the flagpole! It didn't work like in the movies, but did he ever have a..." She stopped at a rather loud cough from Dee, and smiled. "Well, we have all lunch to talk about that. Justine Burgh."

She stuck out her hand, right over Dee's lunch tray as if Dee wasn't even there, and David took it, shaking it firmly. He liked this girl, he decided. He was about to say as much, when a low whistle caused him to jump.

"Hey, kid, are you Davey Jacobs?" A voice asked, from the end of the table.

David looked up and saw the boy from this morning, Jack, standing there, a few other boys standing behind him with crossed arms and straight faces, like bouncers. "It's David, actually," he replied curtly. "May I help you?"

"David, David, Sorry. Just came over to introduce myself, and offer a seat at my lunch table," Jack said, motioning towards a table with lots of people crowded around, and one boy standing on it, chugging a large jug of some sort of soda.

"I already know who you are, and as much fun as that sounds, I'm rather comfortable here, thanks," David replied coolly, tossing another look at the boy on the table before shaking his head and looking back down at his lunch.

Jack ran his hand through his hair, looking a bit perplexed. "Hey, your dad is a friend of my dad, and he asked me to show you around a little bit. Just eat lunch with us, then you can go on your way, and me on mine."

David was about to say no, when he felt a nudge from Dee. "Just go, you'll make your life here a whole lot harder than it needs to be if you start off on the wrong foot with Jack."

"All right," David grunted, standing up and grabbing his bag and lunch.

"Good choice!" Jack nodded, and at that moment, David felt as if he had just sold his soul.

Shaking it off, he followed Jack and his henchmen to the over-crowded table, where there suddenly became available seats. 'Must be nice to be the King,' David mused, taking a seat next to Jack at the head of the table.

"Guys, this is Davey Jacobs, the kid I told you about, from Sweden!" Jack exclaimed, smiling widely.

David resisted the urge to correct him on his name, and instead just smiled and suffered through the pats on the back and 'hey, buddy!'s. A very pretty, slightly pudgy girl with shoulder-length blonde hair and wide, blue eyes walked over from the other side of the table and seated herself in Jack's lap, smiling at David.

"So is it like, really hot there? Do you have any pictures of koalas? I love koalas, they're so cute!" the girl exclaimed, grinning.

David just blinked, while Jack laughed, looking slightly embarrassed as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Rosie, Dear, that's Australia. Sweden is nothing like Australia."

"Oh, well, too bad for you, isn't it?"' Rosie' giggled. "I'm Rose Stokes, Jack's girlfriend. It's nice to meet you, Davey."

"Uh, yeah, good to meet you, too," David nodded, still trying to figure out how anyone could mix up Australia and Sweden.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, before Jack cleared his throat. "So, David, has anyone told you about the sports program here at Medgerick? It's sensational, really. You should think about going out for one of the teams in the winter."

David rolled his eyes and began to eat, trying not to imagine what exactly was in his food, while listening with half an ear to Jack's endless droning. After what seemed like an eternity, the lunch bell finally sounded, and David jumped up, thankful that his torture had ended. "Well, it's been great, see you around!"

He didn't even wait for a goodbye before sprinting off across the room, over to Dee. "Why did you make me sit through that nightmare?" he asked between breaths, as he skidded to a halt in front of Dee's table.

"Pure, sadistic pleasure, really," Dee shrugged, collecting his books and papers before heading towards the door. "Besides, I wasn't lying, getting on the wrong side of Jack is enough to make people transfer out of this school. Happened twice last year."

David followed, groaning. "I would rather be shunned by the entire student body than sit through that again." He paused to shudder at the memory. "Did you know there is a special gel that helps prevent helmet hair? I sure didn't."

"See, what are you complaining about? You learned something! Which is more than you'll be able to say for this class," Dee snorted, holding the door to the classroom open. "Life Choices, 101. More like Waste of Time, 101."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," David shrugged, walking in and taking a seat.

Ten minutes later, however, he found out how very wrong he had been. This weeks topic would be on drugs, the teacher said, and why not to do them. After five more minutes of listening to the horrors of "lawn" and "smuck", he folded his arms on his desk, rested his head down on them, and promptly fell asleep.

He awoke to a rather rude shaking, and he swiped his hands at whoever was holding his shoulders. It took him a moment to realize that the person seemed to be calling his name.

"David, wake up, we're going to be late for our last class!"

David sat up with a start, then blinked as the bright classroom lights poured into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of his book bag and stood up clumsily, stopping for a moment to gain his balance and shake off his nap before exiting the class.

"I've never slept through a class before," David said, hoisting his book bag onto his shoulder.

Dee laughed, waving to someone across the hall. "You've never had Medgerick classes before, that's why. Now I'm not sure about this last class-"

"Senior English? I'm good at English," David interrupted, shrugging. "I doubt it'll be a problem."

"There's a new teacher," Dee said, ignoring the interruption. "Bill Denton, he was here the first year Medgerick was open, but he left to go teach somewhere in California. Word has it he's rather radical."

"You mean he teaches in a way that's not completely monotone, and his lessons aren't completely pointless and made for 4 year olds?" David asked, eyebrow raised.

Dee just laughed. "That's exactly what I mean. Duck!"

"Wha- Oh!" David got his meaning and ducked just in time to miss being struck in the head by a rogue football flying down the hall.

"Sorry!" a large, muscular boy said, before running over to the boy who had thrown it and high-fiving him, laughing.

"You need a personal injury protection policy just to walk down these halls," David shook his head, standing back up.

"Agreed. But it gets easier to avoid... for most people, anyway. All right, in here," Dee said, nodding towards a large classroom in the corner.

David walked in and took a seat in back, preparing to sleep again. The other students filed in and took their seats, looking as tired and bored as he did. He noticed, with a twinge of dread, that Trey and Jack were both in this class, as were many other people from their crowds. Oh well, it didn't matter, he reasoned, he could just sleep through this class for the next semester.

The bell rang and the minutes ticked away, and no teacher appeared out in front of the class. Finally, after ten full minutes, a man rushed in carrying a briefcase and a coat. Tossing both on his desk, he turned to the class.

"Good afternoon, students. I am your teacher, Mr. Bryan Denton. Call me by whatever you'd like, and I'll be sure to return the favor. All right, so, first on the agenda, distractions." Bryan Denton cracked his long fingers slowly, before going on. "Cell phones off, notes away, heads off your desks. Do that in your other classes. In my class, you are here to learn."

That certainly caught everyone's attention. Most actually did as he had requested, the clicking of buttons and the rustling of papers sounding throughout the classroom. When the noise had subsided, he walked over to his desk slowly, and took a seat on the edge.

"Please allow me to tell you all a short story, before I go into my lesson." He paused to wait for a reaction, but when he received none, he continued anyway. "I taught school here back in 1998, the first year it was opened. And my favorite part of the whole school, my favorite place, was the library. The endless stack of books upon books, it always amazed me that a high school library could be so magnificent.

"So, when I came back two weeks ago to set up my classroom and office, naturally I had to stop by the library. However, what I found there, which I'm sure at least some of you are aware of by now, was an absolute monstrosity. The famous Medgerick High School library, cut down to a third of its original size! It was positively revolting. I decided then that it was time to look into what all had changed at Medgerick since I left.

"Let's see a show of hands, shall we? How many of you can't stand the uniforms you were all forced to purchase and then wear? Come now, don't be shy!"

Slowly, every hand in the classroom went up. He nodded knowingly. "And how many of you dislike having to have mandatory locker searches?"

Again, all the hands went up, this time faster. He stretched again, allowing a silence to stretch out over the class as all the students tried to anticipate what this strange man would say next. Finally, he smiled. "This semester, Class, you will be learning about power. You've already seen the extent of what damage a single person with extreme ideas and a position of power can do. We will be discussing all different sorts of power, and the different ways it can be used. Everyone has power, Class. The trick, is knowing how to use it."

It was at that moment that David decided Medgerick might not be all bad, after all.

* * *

**Coming Up In Chapter Two- Tina and Aaron have been best friends since birth – but can their friendship survive through their senior year as their cliques begin to collide? Will the Shikester be able to survive, period? Tune in next time to see! **

All right, time for responses to reviews!

**Oxymoronic Alliteration:** Haha, thank you! I'm glad it's not shaping up to be the same old hat story - hopefully it doesn't disappoint.

**FrenchyGoil: **I'm so happy you're still reading it! I know, the censored books are horrible! Hope you liked this chapter!

**Pancakes: **Thank you! Hope you still like it!

**Ershey: **Haha, I'm glad you're still reading it! I got your profile, so you're all set, Ms. Williams!

**Stargazer138: **Thanks, I'm glad you like it! Hoped you liked this chapter, as wel!

**Stress: **Thanks! Hope you liked this one!

**Manhattan**Haha, thank you very much! Hope it's progressing to your liking.

**Dewey: **Thanks! I'm having a ball with the whole 'modern' story thing, so hopefully it's showing through in the fic!

**Raven: **Thanks a lot! Hope you like it!

And that's all! Review, review, review! Adios!


	4. You're a Nobody

**((Authors Note- I realize some of the characters have details not established in the profiles some of you sent in… mostly, those were my little quirks, and hopefully you're all right with them. Thanks to Filly for proofing this for me!))**

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"Teeny, calling Arrow. Arrow, do you read me?"

Aaron Chapman sighed, letting his pencil drop onto his long essay he had previously been working on, and stood, striding over to the window. Pulling it open completely, he rolled his eyes at the sight in front of him. "Tina, why do you insist on using the ridiculous nicknames we came up with in preschool? And yes, I read you; in fact, I think the whole neighborhood read you."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Tina Winters grinned, before holding up her can that was attached to the string line between their bedrooms, and then putting it on her ear.

"This is ridiculous, Tina. We're seniors now. I don't know of any other seniors that communicate through tin can lines and call each other by corny little nicknames that were made because we couldn't pronounce each other's names when we were four," Aaron said, though now speaking into his can.

"Aaron, this is what makes our friendship so special. Aside from the fact that I have your little naked baby pictures up in my living room," Tina added, trying to keep a straight face as she continued to speak loudly into the can. "Are you trying to take the magic out of our relationship, Aaron Chapman?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Aaron shook his head. Suppressing another sigh, he tossed a wistful look back at his half-done essay. "Why do you always have to talk when I'm right in the middle of my homework?"

"Call it intuition," Tina shrugged, tossing her long black hair in a way that reminded Aaron very much of many of his school friends, and caused him to laugh. "So, how was your first day of senior year?"

"Decent, outside of classes," he said, then laughed. "Except for PE. We played a bit of dodgeball, just for fun, and Melody Steffanson pegged Trey in the head so hard he couldn't walk straight for the rest of the class."

"Damn, she beat me to it," she sighed, snapping her fingers. "Well, my day was dull."

"I heard you got kicked out of Physics for dancing on a table, detention for sliding down the staircase and bowling the librarian over, and another detention warning for making out with Dom Kilks on a teacher's desk," Aaron said, raising an eyebrow.

"Rumors, rumors." Tina waved his tales off with her hand. "First, it was dancing _and_ singing. What, do I look like some sort of freak that would just jump up on a table and start dancing, with no song? Please. Second off, it wasn't a detention, per say, just a mandatory invitation to stay at the school for extra study time. And thirdly, it's not our fault the teacher's desk happened to be there, we would've made out there with or without the desk there. See, I meant to stop making out with him at school, but he always gets me started when he does this thing with his tongue where-"

"Tina, stop!" Aaron exclaimed, dropping his tin can on the ground and covering his ears. "I thought we went over our 'too much information' policy."

"Fine, fine," she shrugged. "So, speaking of, how are things with the old lady? Has she finally learned that there's more to life than short skirts and overbearing school spirit?"

"We're fine. And how about you not rag on her?" he snapped, becoming uncharacteristically agitated all of the sudden. "There's more to her than that, people never give her enough credit."

"Whoa, take it easy there, Captain Commando! I was only kidding! You don't have to defend her to me, I would hardly bad mouth the third in our trinity of sandbox buddies. Why are you so tense?" she asked, raising her eyebrow in question.

"Sorry, I know you wouldn't. I'm just... stressed, that's all." Deciding to change the subject before Tina saw through his lie, Aaron made a face. "I hate this essay. I mean, who really cares about the basics of the different food groups? And on the first day!"

"I told you not to take Nutrition, but you wouldn't listen to me! So, you deserve it," she grinned, sticking out her tongue. "But, still, I suppose you shouldn't have to suffer alone. How about I give you an hour to finish up, and then I'll come over there with the Oreos, and we'll watch that late-night horror flick?"

"H20? Come on, Teeny, we've seen that a million times, and the worst part is we didn't like it the first time." He rolled his eyes. "Why do you always want to watch it? And how do you always know when it's on television?"

"Because it's tradition! You always stress out about some assignment, and I always come over with Oreos when you're done, and we always spend the rest of the night watching it while you complain continuously about each stupid part. It's like your de-stressor," she smirked. "And chalk one up for your observational skills, by the way; I recorded it off the television in 8th grade, and have been using the same video ever since then, I just never told you about it. I had hoped you'd figure it out by now."

"I was beginning to wonder why they were still having commercials for Tickle Me Elmos," he said, looking contemplative. "Oh well, fine. One hour, my couch, your cookies, H20."

"I'll be there! Hey, we're still on for the Friday night Saved By the Bell Marathon, right?" she asked.

He nodded, laughing. "How could I miss that? Yes, we're on."

"Great! Oh, and by the way, you called me Teeny! Guess someone's not as grown up as the widdle snookums thinks he is, is he?" she beamed at him. "Teeny out!"

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped and rolled his eyes as she slammed her window shut. Sighing and shaking his head, he went back over to his desk and began writing again.

* * *

The next morning, Medgerick High began to fall back to its dreary, dull fog that it had been in for years, the first day excitement now over. Except for two freshmen, however, who were speaking excitedly during their second period study hall.

"I was like, 'hey, it was a real fun one night stand, but girl, I'm just not into the exclusive scene.' And she was all 'but you were the best I ever had,' and I was all 'I know, I know, but I'm young, and I gotta catch all the booty I can'."

"Wow!" Les Jacobs' eyes were round as saucers as he listened to his new friend, Matt Shikes, tell him about his activities last night. "Did she cry?"

"Well yeah, I mean, who can blame her? I probably ruined her for the rest of her life, no mortal man can match up to the Shikester in the bedroom," Matt said, beaming with pride. "So I went another round with her, just to make her-"

"Mr. Shikes, would you please refrain from telling wild tales during my class? Entertaining as they might be," Mr. Kloppman, the study hall teacher and head librarian, said, looking amused as Matt nearly jumped out of his seat, "And have no doubt, they are entertaining, some people are actually here to study. Fancy that, someone studying in study hall? What a ridiculous notion!"

"Sorry Sir. But I'll have you know, it wasn't a wild tale," Matt replied, aware that the entire class was now paying strict attention.

"That's funny. Because if memory serves, I was over with your mother and yourself last night, and the only person to cry was you, while the three of us watched Old Yeller together." Mr. Kloppman gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking back up to the front, trying not to smile to widely as Matt put his face in his hands to avoid seeing the laughing faces of his peers.

"Why was Mr. Kloppman at your house?" Les questioned, watching as the older man walked away, chuckling.

Matt groaned. "He and mom are engaged."

"Mr. Kloppman and your mom are engaged? How long have they been together?" Les asked, easily bouncing from one topic to the next.

"Just since a month ago. They've been seeing each other since last year, when he was the middle school librarian. I swear, I can't get away from him!" Matt sighed. "They met at some school parent night, and haven't been away from each other since. It's totally gross."

"Oh. What's Old Yeller?" Les asked, continuing on.

Matt rolled his eyes, growing tired of his friend's inquisitive nature, but was luckily rescued by the bell. "Lunch time! Today I'm going to show you the hottest two girls in school; sorry about yesterday, I didn't think Mrs. Olsen would get angry enough to actually give me a lunch detention."

"Cool!" Les grinned. "And well, you did kind of throw her Chia Pet across the room."

"I thought it was dead, how was I supposed to know they just look like that when they're new?" Matt grumbled, picking up his books.

"Come on, I've lived in Sweden for most of my life and even I know what a new Chia Pet looks like," Les laughed, pulling on his backpack and heading for the door.

"All right, all right, so maybe I did know what it was, but I didn't think the old bat would catch me! She never sees anything, usually!" Matt sighed, cutting in front of Les to walk out the door (sending a glare to Mr. Kloppman, and narrowly avoiding a pinch).

"It might have had something to do with you beating your chest like Tarzan and yelling that you were the king right beforehand," Les shrugged, rolling his eyes as he turned down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "Which, by the way, didn't seem to impress that girl beside you very much."

"Maybe that's it! Oh, Ginger? She loves me, trust me," Matt grinned smugly as he fell into his normal strut down the hallway. "She just tries to deny it."

"Is that why she kicked you in the stomach when you tried to feel her up during history?" Les asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend's awkward way of walking.

"It was a love tap with her foot, thank you very much," Matt retorted, striding brusquely into the cafeteria.

Les rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he followed him in and headed for the table they sat at yesterday. "If that was out of love, I'd hate to see what she'd do if she really disliked a guy."

"You _really_ would," came a sing-song voice from behind them, making the pair jump at least a foot before turning around slowly and seeing the smiling face of Ginger Larson. "Hate it, that is."

She brushed past them and sat down at the table, pulling out a book from her arm and beginning to flip through it. Les watched her walk, dimly aware that Matt had started speaking again, but not caring. At 5'1, she was a bit shorter than most of the other freshman, but that hardly seemed to bother her. In fact, Les had noticed, it took a lot to really bother her for more than a few moments (groping in classrooms, aside). With wild, long red hair that seemed to do whatever it pleased (much like the girl, herself), bright green eyes and pale skin, she was pretty, if not more than a bit unusual. When she had introduced herself the previous day during lunch, she had made sure to make it clear to him that she was an up-and-coming journalist, and nothing, including a boy, would be able to stand in her way. For some reason, he'd had the worst of crushes on her ever since.

"Earth to Les, come in, Les!" Matt called, waving his hands in front of Les's face.

"What? Oh, sorry," Les said, taking a seat at the table (strategically moving so that he was right across from Ginger).

"As I was saying, over there sit the two hottest girls in school. Come on, I'll introduce you," Matt said, standing up and tugging on his arm.

Les rolled his eyes. "But we just sat down! And a man's got to eat!"

"Then there should be no problem for you two," Ginger joked, not even bothering to look back from the girl next to her, whom she interviewing with the utmost of intensity.

"Ha, ha, ha. Thanks," Les grumbled, standing up and following (more like being dragged behind) Matt.

Matt rushed to the back of the cafeteria and out the back doors, to the courtyard. Les thought he was going to take him off campus for a moment, before Matt stopped in front of two very pretty girls.

"Ladies! If you have a moment, I'd like to introduce my friend, here, to the two loveliest women in this school," Matt grinned, bowing a bit.

The girls rolled their eyes, but nodded. "Whatever, Kid. Just so long as you take a hike afterwards."

"Your wish is my command! Les Jacobs, I'd like to introduce you to Maggie McCaffee and Vincenza Bellechini, the most beautiful girls in all the land," Matt said, smiling widely.

"Pleased to meet you," Les nodded, offering a hand first to Maggie, then to Vincenza, then finally putting it down after both girls ignored it.

Though Les would say Ginger had both of these girls in the looks department (she was beautifully _unique_), he had to admit they were definitely good-looking. Maggie had light green eyes, emphasized by lots of black mascara and eyeliner, and long, curly brown hair. She had a rather full figure for her petite height, too, he noticed (and he also noticed Matt being unable to take his eyes off that particular feature).

Vincenza looked darker by contrast, but just as pretty. She had long wavy black hair, and large, almond-shaped brown eyes underneath long, lowered black eyelashes. She was very thin, like many of the models he'd seen in London when his mother used to drag him to fashion shows. She probably could have been one, too, if not for the short stature. Both, he figured, would look even prettier, if they would just stop sneering.

"All right, you've said your little introductions," Maggie said, crossing her arms.

"So leave," Vincenza finished, pointing back to the school.

"Ladies, ladies!" Matt exclaimed, attempting to look charming. "Wouldn't you like some big, strong men to keep you company?"

"Just one is fine, and oh, here he comes," Maggie said, waving to someone over their shoulders.

Matt and Les whirled around, and saw a large, mean-looking boy coming their way. The boy, who looked to be at least a senior, if not older, gave the two boys a smile (though it looked more like a growl, in Les's opinion) and stopped in front of them.

"Well, if it isn't the shrimp. You've got a shadow, now?" The boy asked Matt, narrowing his eyes. "And you're both hitting on my girls, I see. I thought we discussed this?"

"Err, Morris! Of course we did! We were just asking... for directions... to the library!" Les tried not to slap his forehead at Matt's excuse, but stayed still as Matt went on. "But, we got them, so we'll be on our way now. Nice seeing you again! Love the mustache!"

Matt took off running, and Les followed suit. They ran all the way back to the building, and stopped as soon as they got through the doors. Les glared at Matt, panting. "Who was that?"

"That was Morris Von Stefan, biggest bully of the school. Well, and his brother, and his sister, of course. Just stay away from anyone named Von Stefan, and you'll be okay," Matt said, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.

"How many of them are there?" Les asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Three, they're triplets. The Terror Trio is what I call 'em. And the sister is the worst, so watch out for her. Raevyn Von Stefan, sexy, and dangerous as anything." Matt suddenly started to laugh. "Do you know how close we came to getting pounded out there?"

"What's pounded?" Les inquired.

Matt shook his head, sighing as he slung an arm around Les's shoulders and began to lead him back to their table. "You got a lot to learn, Kid."

* * *

The final bell had come and gone, and Tina was more than ready to get the real day started. Throwing her books and papers in her locker to form an unceremonious heap, she was about to slam the door shut when a hand grabbed onto her shoulder, causing her to start slightly and whip around. "Oh! It's just you! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The invader upon her personal bubble and also her longtime boyfriend, Dom Kilks, just laughed. "Just me? If I didn't know you better, I think I might be offended at that statement."

She gave a good, long look at her boyfriend, once again reminded why she was with him. Tall and lithe, with the rugged build of a soccer player (not that he'd ever take part in anything as demeaning as an organized sport) and deep, soulful brown eyes, he was undeniably handsome.

"If you didn't know me better," she nodded, giving him a coy smile.

There was a moment of silence as the two smiled at each other, before Dom leaned down and Tina put her arms around his neck and against the lockers they went, exploring each others tonsils like a new horizon. This lasted for a good five minutes before someone behind them cleared their throat and waved their hand beside them, causing the couple to jump away from each other.

"Don't you two ever turn it off? I mean, really?"

Tina rolled her eyes at the girl in front of her. At 5'4 with shoulder-length black hair, dark blue eyes and pale skin, Elise Grey looked very much like a sort of regal, porcelain doll. Of course, the heavy black eyeliner made her look like a very punkish sort of doll, but that was all right with her.

Coiled around her in a rather intricate fashion was Mark Taylor, Elise's boyfriend. With thick spectacles and a slightly narrow head, Mark wasn't the definition of handsome, and many people often wondered what a girl as striking as Elise was doing with a boy like him. Mark was well aware of this talk, and ignored it, but Elise, however, was completely in the dark. According to her, she had the sweetest, most dashing boyfriend in New York.

"You're one to talk," Tina laughed, pointing to Mark and his octopus-like hands.

Elise just shrugged. "At least mine can keep his little friend from peeking out at the hallway," she said, pointing to Dom's middle.

Dom's hands immediately flew to cover himself, and a blush crept over his face. "Normally, he stays down, thanks."

"Ah ha," Elise nodded, rolling her eyes. "What if Adlam had seen you guys?"

"Who cares?" Tina retorted. "You know he likes to watch."

"Eww, Tina!" Came from all three of her companions as they covered their ears and squeezed their eyes shut, trying to keep that mental image from destroying their good moods.

"What? It's true!" Tina shrugged.

"Come on, I have to go the bathroom," Elise sighed, grabbing Tina's arm and beginning to drag her down the hall. "We'll be back in a minute, guys."

"Why do you need me to go to the bathroom with you? Last time I checked, that was kind of a one-person thing," Tina protested, digging her heels into the ground.

"When I have to talk to you about something very important that present company shouldn't hear about!" Elise whispered harshly.

"Oh, that makes sense, then," Tina agreed, allowing herself to be dragged into the empty washroom.

Once inside, Elise slammed the door and walked over to the counter, looking at her friend in the mirror. "So, I heard Aaron talking to Trey this morning about his Friday night plans. Saved By the Bell marathon, huh?"

"Yeah. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Because you know you're always welcome," Tina said, leaning against the wall.

"Tina, as your best female friend, I think I'd better come right out and say this. You can't keep stringing Dom along when you're so taken with Aaron! It's not fair to any of you." Elise stopped at the shocked look that had spread across Tina's face, and sighed. "You need to get over Aaron, and realize what a great boyfriend you have in Dom. Aaron and you will never happen."

"Aaron and me?" Tina's upper lip curled in revulsion. "Are you serious? Come on, El! I know how great Dom is, I'd never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. And where would you ever get the idea I was taken with Aaron? You know we've been friends since... well, ever!"

"Exactly, and now it's building into something more, and everyone else knows it, even if the two of you are completely blind to it," Elise shrugged.

"Listen, I..." But whatever Tina's response was going to be, it was cut off by the entrance of three of Medgerick's most popular cheerleaders, including Chloe Cormac, Aaron's girlfriend and head of the squad.

"So he, like, likes me, you know? But I told him to take off, I mean like, gotta keep me options open, you know?" The tallest of the three, Elizabeth Boyd, said, as they walked over to the mirror, ignoring the other two girls.

Tina rolled her eyes. Though easily one of the prettiest girls at Medgerick, Elizabeth could hardly be called deep. With long blonde hair, curiously colored blue-green eyes, long legs and a slim body, she was the perfect stereotype of a cheerleader. Of course, being rather snobby and mean-spirited only helped that stereotype along.

"Oh my gosh, like, really?" Liz Hale replied, rolling her eyes and tightening her ponytail.

Of all the cheerleaders, Liz was one of the only ones Tina could really stomach. Standing at 5'1 with long brown hair and bright green eyes, she was very pretty, but not in a Barbie Doll sort of way, as Elizabeth was. The two were best friends, but no one could really figure out why, other than the shared name. While Elizabeth was shallow and snobby, Liz was deep, witty and friendly. As far as Tina could tell, being a cheerleader was Liz's only real fault.

"Hey Tina," Chloe said softly, as she joined her two companions at the mirror (Elise had conveniently moved as far away from it as was possible and still remain in the room).

Tina nodded to her in response, finding it hard to think anything negative about the girl in front of her. For as far back as Tina could remember, Chloe had always been the lovable one of the two. With fair skin, deep green eyes and long, light brown hair with blonde highlights, Chloe had gone from an adorable child to a stunning teenager. She had an intoxicating grin and a friendly, cheerful demeanor that drew people to her like flies to honey. Which was why, over the years, she and Tina had drifted apart, as she became more and more popular, while Tina stayed with the same circle of friends she had always had. By high school, the two were in completely opposite crowds, and rarely spoke.

However, though she still liked Chloe, they did rarely speak, and a bathroom full of cheerleaders wasn't some place she really wanted to stay. She was about to give Elise the 'let's go' nod, when Elizabeth started speaking.

"So, did you guys hear? Dave's parents are going out of town for the weekend, and he's having a major after-game party! Dave Maltic, not that new Honors geek," she clarified. "You know that mansion he's got, it's so exciting. I'm totally helping him plan it. Everyone who's anyone is going to be there!" Elizabeth grinned and dabbed a bit more lip-gloss on her already overly glossed lips. Once satisfied, her gleaming lips shimmered in the poor bathroom lighting as she leaned in to gossip. "I heard he's going to try and get lucky with Trish, but everyone knows Trey would kill him if he did."

"Get real, Dave's too much of a gentleman to ever try anything like that," Liz countered, not looking up from her cell phone, on which she was apparently playing some sort of game.

"I don't think it's got anything to do with being a gentleman, I just think he's gay." At her friends' groans, Elizabeth held up a hand in defense. "Seriously! He never tries anything! And Trish is _so_ pretty. He's got to be gay."

"Just because a guy doesn't try to grope you in the backseat of his car every date doesn't mean he's gay," Chloe said, laughing.

"Exactly," Liz agreed.

"Oh, like you'd know!" Elizabeth snapped, causing Liz to look up from her game. "James isn't exactly Mr. Virtue."

"He is too! Damnit, you made me lose my game!" Liz glared at Elizabeth, who just tilted her head and gave her a quirky smile.

Tina and Elise exchanged glances and tried to keep from smiling (or showing any sign that they were listening to the silly conversation). James O'Leary was Liz's boyfriend, and though devastatingly handsome and incredibly charming, he had a tendency to let his hormones get the best of him, and everyone knew it. In fact, he did many things that weren't exactly socially acceptable, and had even done time in the local juvenile center for some of it. However, he swore he was a changed man now, and apparently, Liz very much believed him.

Elizabeth fidgeted under Liz's glare after a few moments, as everyone who had received that look from her did, and decided to go back to the original topic. "So, are you guys going?"

"Yeah, I've wanted to see Dave's house for awhile," Liz nodded. "And, let me guess, you're riding with us?"

Elizabeth smiled widely. "You know me, like, way too well. My date and I will be at your house an hour after the game."

The two stood silent for a moment, looking expectantly at Chloe, who suddenly seemed very interested in her mascara tube. After another long moment, she looked at the two and giggled nervously. "I hadn't heard about it, but yeah, Aaron and I will be there."

"Good, it wouldn't be a party without you guys! Like I said, everyone who's anyone will be there," Elizabeth nodded, smiling.

Tina swallowed down her rage, knowing that her Friday night plans had just gone down the drain. Aaron would never turn down Chloe, and all his friends would be pressuring him to go, anyway. Deciding it was time to make her presence known before making a quick escape, she cleared her throat. "Everyone who's anyone? But we weren't invited!"

Elizabeth jumped- apparently having forgotten Elise and Tina's presence- looked over at her with lowered eyelashes. "That's like, what I just said, isn't it? You're not anyone. You're a nobody."

"Watch it, Tina. Insulting Barbie is getting irritated," Elise smirked, walking over to the door.

"Freaks," Elizabeth shook her head, glaring at them.

"Bitch," Tina retorted.

Elizabeth looked thoroughly offended, but recovered quickly. "Whore."

"Even if I were a whore, I'd still be better than you. Because I'd get paid, for what you do for _free_." Tina gave her a sarcastic grin.

Giving a disbelieving snort, Elizabeth grabbed her purse and stormed out of the bathroom, making sure to slam into both Tina and Elise before going out the door. Liz sighed, following after Elizabeth.

"Well, aren't you going to go?" Tina asked Chloe, holding open the door.

"Sorry Tina," Allison said, nodding and walking out the door.

"Elizabeth Boyd is such a bitch." Elise shook her head. "Don't even listen to her."

"No, she's right. I'm a nobody." Sighing, Tina walked out of the washroom, leaving Elise standing there, looking bewildered.

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**Coming Up In Chapter Three-** Trish has everything a girl in high school could want… right? And what is Randy Von Stefan up to? Stay tuned!


	5. Never Wanted Any of It

((**AN- Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter it! I've already started the next chapter, so have no fear, it will not take three months to complete! Please, don't forget to review!**))

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"Oh my gosh, I've got to have that!"

Trish Williams and Laura Smith shared a look before rolling their eyes as Lindsey McDonnell took off for another kiosk. When Trish had come up with the idea for an after school-shopping trip to find outfits for the big party on Friday, all five of her closest friends had jumped on the idea. However, as soon as they entered Grand Central Terminal, Aurelia Parker had been whisked away by a good-looking mall-worker on break, and Sarah Davis, the last of their little group, had taken a rather long detour through the sports section of one of the department stores, and they had not heard from either of the two girls since. It had only taken a few more minutes before Lindsey had started in on her usual mall habits (buying everything that wasn't tied down).

"And then, there were two," Laura sighed.

Trish nodded in agreement, thankful that she had at least one friend left. With straight, shoulder-length brown hair, light brown eyes and golden-toned skin, it wasn't as if Laura couldn't have boys chasing after her all the time, as Aurelia did. In fact, no one was really sure why she chose to stay single, but when asked, she'd only say, "If I ever got lonely, I'd get a gold fish. They're easier to flush down a toilet." She also had quite a bit of money (as all five of the girls did), but was too sensible to splurge.

"Shall we go get her before she puts her dad into the poorhouse?" Trish asked, nodding to a group of well-dressed boys who were giving the two girls appreciative stares.

"I guess. It's not like it matters, though, I doubt he even notices. Remember that Lexus he got her last year, for passing English with a B?" Laura shook her head, starting towards Lindsey, who was pointing out various items on the kiosk while the salesclerk was frantically grabbing them and putting them in bags.

"You mean the one she crashed a week later?" Trish rolled her eyes, following after her. "And then he bought her a new one - since 'she earned it'."

Both girls sighed. They all knew how smart Lindsey was, but they also knew how she spent her whole life hiding it, from her family, her friends, even herself. It wasn't proper for a girl to be smart in the McDonnell family, and Lindsey was all about being proper. She had long, golden brown hair, light green eyes, and was perfectly petite (though given her family's natural pear-shape, she had to spend several hours a week in the gym to keep herself that way). Her sole mission in life, as far as her family was concerned, was to be beautiful, spend money, and someday grow up and have children. And so far, she was achieving all those goals quite well.

"All right, Linds, come on, we haven't even made it into the boutiques yet! And honestly, when are you going to use an 'herbal pillow'?" Trish asked, seizing her arm and beginning to pull her friend away, much to the dismay of the salesman.

"It helps you sleep better! I need it! Let me go!" Lindsey protested, struggling as Laura grabbed her other arm and helped Trish pull her away.

"You sleep like a rock," Laura grunted, continuing to pull Lindsey towards Wet Seal. "And what you need, is help. You're a total shopping addict."

"Am not! Let me go, I'm done, I promise," Lindsey sniffed, shrugging indignantly when her companions let her arms free. Then, looking around quickly, she stomped on Laura's foot and jumped behind Trish. "You deserved it!"

Laura grabbed her foot and glared at Lindsey, about to lunge, when Aurelia ran up to them, a handsome boy in tow.

"Girls, this is Ricky, isn't he cute? He promised to take me out to lunch, if I would introduce him and his friends to you." Aurelia grinned, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and blinking her wide blue eyes innocently.

"We're your bartering pieces?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aurelia stared at her for a moment, before shrugging. "Um, sure. Whatever that means. Anyway, Ricky, this is Laura, Linds, and Tri-... Trish?"

The three girls glanced over to where Trish had been standing, and found it to be empty. After a moment, Lindsey pointed over to the Wet Seal. "Maybe she already went in. We were hoping to find Sarah in there."

"But we can't go yet!" Aurelia protested, looking at Ricky. "I promised to bring you guys back to the food court to meet his friends. Besides, Sarah's already back there with them, waiting for us."

"You guys go, I'll go get her," Lindsey said, before waving off Laura's look of protest and heading for Wet Seal.

"Trish! Tricia Williams, are you in here?" Lindsey called as she walked through the entrance, peering around.

"I'm over here," a voice replied from the back of the store.

Lindsey made her way over, grabbing a few garments off the racks out of habit before making it over to Trish, who was holding a long dress up against herself in front of a wall of mirrors. "Total catch, Trish, that gold totally brings out the natural gold in your eyes and hair," Lindsey said, nodding expertly.

Trish rolled her eyes, heading into a nearby dressing room. "My eyes are brown, Linds, and the only gold in my hair was naturally salon-made."

"The gold _flecks_ in your eyes, then. Jeez, what's got you so down? And why'd you just take off back there?" Lindsey asked, holding a shirt up to herself and twisting in front of the mirrors.

There was a short silence before Trish came out, wearing the long gold dress. "I just get tired of it, you know? How does this look?"

Lindsey tilted her head to the side, giving the dress a mock-critical look, before laughing. With blonde hair and almond-shaped brown eyes, not to mention the body of a dancer, Trish could have worn a potato sack and still looked amazing. "I think you'd give Dave a hard on, right there in front of everyone if you wore that. And you'd give your brother a heart attack. What do you get tired of?"

"You say it like giving Trey a heart attack would be a bad thing," Trish muttered, slipping back into her stall. "But point taken about Dave; maybe I'll save this for another time. And I just... I just get tired of all the interruptions. This was supposed to be just the five of us, going shopping. But why is it that every time we go somewhere, other people always seem to be around? If it's not some random guys, it's friends from school or my brother and his lackeys."

"Most of your brother's lackeys _are_ our friends from school," Lindsey pointed out.

Trish let out a loud sigh, opening the stall door and walking towards the store exit, Lindsey quickly catching up. "I know they are, and that's what I mean. Why can't the five of us ever just do something, like old times? You guys are my best friends, I miss just hanging out with you, no interruptions."

Lindsey nodded, thinking this over for a moment as the two stopped at the front of the store. "Well, how about we have a sleepover? This Friday, after the party. We'll pig out, talk about boys, paint fingernails, just like we used to!"

"You're serious?" Trish asked, giving Lindsey a suspicious look.

Lindsey grinned, batting her eyes innocently and swinging an arm over Trish's shoulder. "Of course I'm serious! We'll even do it at my house, so we don't have to worry about your brother and his friends interrupting. What do you say?"

"I say, I don't know what I'd do without a friend like you," Trish smiled.

"You'd still be recovering from that fashion crime you wanted to commit in eighth grade that I talked you out of. Honestly Trish, a pink and black polka-dotted skirt with a turtleneck? I still, to this day, don't know what you were thinking," Lindsey sighed, shaking her head as she lead Trish toward the food court.

Trish allowed herself to be dragged, shrugging. "Madonna made it look good, okay? Besides, Laura dared me to."

"Laura also dared you to jump off your roof wearing those cardboard wings when we were in kindergarten, remember? She said they'd make you fly." Lindsey shook her head, letting go of Trish and stepping onto the escalator. "Good thing your mom caught you, or else you wouldn't have lived long enough to get that second dare."

Trish laughed, and then let out a long sigh. "Those were the good old days."

Lindsey shrugged, walking toward the food court. "Maybe so. But why all the nostalgic talk?"

Trish looked at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with her. After a few moments, she finally sighed again. "Trey's just really been on my case this year, trying to run my life, you know how he does. I just miss things being fun, and friends being friends because they were friends, not because my brother decreed them fit to be."

"Trish…" Lindsey began, but paused as Trish held up a hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm not being much fun. I'm just in a downer mood, I guess. Is that them, over there?" Trish asked, pointing to a group on the far side of the food court.

"Looks like it. There's Aurelia, Sarah and Laura, and that Ricky guy,"Lindsey nodded, beginning to weave her way through maze of chairs and children.

"And five of his friends," Trish rolled her eyes, following after her.

They stopped in front of the booth, and Trish tried not to laugh at the scene. Aurelia was hanging onto Ricky's arm and giggling while Ricky told a story, which seemed to be amusing everyone there, except Laura, who was banging her head repeatedly on the table, and Sarah, who was simply rolling her eyes. Clearing her throat loudly, Trish smiled as all eyes turned to her and Lindsey.

"Hey, we're back. Having fun?" Trish asked, looking pointedly at Laura, whose forehead was now turning red.

"Any more 'fun' would just _kill me_," Laura replied, stressing the 'kill me' almost too much.

"And she's only been here for a few minutes. I'm the lucky one; I've been here for a quarter of an _hour_," Sarah interjected, pointedly edging away from one of the guys who was moving ever-closer to her.

"Sit down, guys!" Aurelia said, motioning toward the booth.

The two boys on the ends scooted in, making room for Lindsey and Trish, who both looked at each other warily before taking a seat.

"So who are you?" Lindsey asked, motioning to the five, currently anonymous guys.

They all opened their mouths to reply, but Ricky beat them to it. "That's Darrel, Fred, Mickey, and Luke."

"Thanks," Trish said dryly. "Are you guys from around here?"

"Yeah, we're from Selta High," a boy with short, spiked blonde hair and a cocky grin said. She recognized him as the boy Ricky had just called 'Luke', and made a mental note to avoid him. Not that that seemed as if it were going to be any problem; he looked too busy trying to remove all the space between himself and Lindsey.

"Selta, huh?" Lindsey asked, edging away from him. Selta was the other High School in the district, and while it had its pluses, for the most part, it was rougher, tougher and much dirtier than Medgerick. And Selta students never seemed to mind.

"Yeah," Luke nodded, reaching up and pulling back a lock of hair that had fallen in front of Lindsey's face, causing Lindsey to shift uncomfortably. "It's all right, but we don't have that many good looking girls. Well, not as hot as you, anyway."

"It's funny, you know who else was just commenting on how pretty Linds was?" Laura said, deciding to intervene. Luke looked over at her, as did the rest of the group, and she smiled sweetly. "Her boyfriend, this morning. Her big, 6'2, 180 pound boyfriend that has a black belt and the _worst_ jealousy problem."

"Oh, well, he's got good taste," Luke replied, coughing and sliding away from Lindsey ever so slightly.

There was a long period of silence. Finally, Aurelia grunted. "This is boring. Someone do something funny."

Ricky smiled at her, nodding, before picking up a french-fry and tossing it across the food court. The group watched as the missile grazed over the heads of dozens of mall patrons, before finally hitting someone in the back of the head. Everyone, even Trish and Laura, began to laugh, but stopped when the unfortunate french-fry victim stood up and turned around.

"Oh, great," one of the other boys, Mikey, muttered, as the person caught sight of their group, motioned for the rest of the people at their table to follow them, and made their way over.

"What is it?" Laura asked, frowning.

"Cydney McDevitt, Queen Bitch of Selta. Dude, couldn't you have hit someone else?" a third boy, Fred, said, slapping Ricky upside the head.

"I wasn't aiming for her," Ricky began, but stopped as Cydney came to a halt in front of their table, slamming her fist down and making all the drinks shake.

Trish looked up, and choked back a gasp. The girl in front of them was exotic looking, to say the very least. With long, fire-engine red hair, ice blue eyes and a rather curved figure, she seemed to Trish to have just stepped off of a cover for a gothic magazine. That, plus the look of pure hate etched into the girl's pale face, was absolutely stunning. And completely terrifying.

"Which one of you little pricks threw this?" Cydney asked, narrowing her eyes as she dropped the fry into Laura's soda. "Which one?"

"We didn't throw anything," Sarah said, keeping her voice calm.

Cydney turned to her and shot her a glare that made her snap her mouth shut quickly. "Nothing more pathetic than a liar."

"Unless it's a bitch with no fashion sense," Aurelia smirked, waving slightly. "Like you."

"Fashion? Please," another girl in Cydney's group said, stepping out from behind her. "The only thing you know about fashion is what Abercrombie and Fitch tells you."

This girl, Trish recognized from school. With her long, curly black hair, steely gray eyes and a biting wit, it would be hard for anyone to forget Rachel Lenin. Trish, especially, as she had been partners with the girl the previous year in Chemistry. After nearly blowing up the lab twice, the girls decided to try and get along, for the sake of everyone in their Chem class. They had, too, so well that from then on, the two always gave each other secret smiles when the rest of their cliques weren't looking. Apparently, the truce was over, however.

"You're just jealous because you can't afford Abercrombie and Fitch," Aurelia shot back at Rachel.

Rachel took a step forward toward Aurelia, but was stopped by a motion from Cydney, who was still staring at the table, eyes narrowed. "Listen, you little mindless clones, if you so much as look at our table again, I'll-"

"Cast a spell on us?" Ricky offered, causing his friends to laugh loudly.

"She'll stand back and watch me kick your ass." Came a voice so low Trish had to strain to understand what it said.

Glancing up, she saw a very handsome boy now wrapping his arm around Cydney's waist, a slight smirk across his face as he stared coldly at Ricky. He had icy blue eyes and spiky brown hair, and everything about him seemed to scream 'Mess with me, I dare you'.

Apparently, Ricky wasn't up for that dare, as he sank back into the booth. "Roades, didn't know you were here."

"Guess not," the handsome boy shrugged, his face unreadable. "So why don't you just apologize to the lady, and take your little group and get out of here."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sarah said, holding up her hand. The boy's glare snapped over to her, but she didn't seem to notice, or care. "Who died and made you the owner of this mall? We've got as much right to be here as you do, so why don't you just quit trying to start fights and go back to whatever you were doing."

The boy was about to say something, but Ricky interrupted. "No, that's okay," he said, laughing nervously. "Sorry Cydney, wasn't aiming for you. Won't happen again."

Cydney looked at him, then back at her group, then shrugged. "Whatever. Just make sure it doesn't. The thought of something you pieces of trash touched, touching me, is totally disgusting."

She whirled around and stocked off towards her table, her group in tow. Once they were out of ear-shot, Laura turned to Ricky, eyes ablaze. "What was _that_?"

"_That_ was Gabe Roades," Mikey explained, coming to his friend's aid. "That guy is crazy, no one messes with him. Last I heard, he was in juvy all summer for nearly killing a guy who looked at him the wrong way. It's best to just leave him alone. Same with Cydney, they're both insane."

Laura didn't look appeased, nor did Sarah, but she leaned back in the booth anyway. There were a few moments of silence, before a hand slammed down on the table, again. Trish looked up and saw Cydney, smirking. Before anyone could react, Cydney picked up Laura's soda, threw it in Aurelia's face, and laughed shortly.

"Funny, isn't it?" she smirked, before walking back to her table, which was now cracking up with laughter.

"My new shirt!" Aurelia exclaimed, looking down at her now-ruined blouse as she brought her hands up to her soda-covered face. "That bitch!"

"See?" Mikey asked, shrugging.

Trish sighed, watching idly as Aurelia, near tears, tried desperately to blot out the stains and streaks of make-up with napkins. Another day in paradise.

* * *

It was precisely this moment that Justine Tan lived for. Over half the lunchroom was quiet, and the three people standing in front of her were barely breathing, waiting for her to speak. Medgerick High belonged to her, at that moment, and though it happened every day, it was like a new experience every time. A new high, that she'd never give up. 

Tucking a loose strand of her black, shoulder-length hair behind her ear, her black eyes sparkled as she flipped the three cards on the table over, and gave a large smile. "Sorry folks, looks like dealer wins again! Come back next time!"

Ignoring the groans and muttered threats, she scooped the newly acquired pocket change into her palm, and handed it to her associate to split between them. Her associate being her best friend and hired bodyguard, Raevyn Von Stefan. Raevyn (or Rave-ster, as Justine would call her when feeling particularly daring) was fair, with curly brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was attractive, but any man who could find the courage to tell her that had, thus far, found himself bent into unnatural positions by either herself or her brothers. While Justine was upbeat and friendly, Raevyn was reserved and a bit surly (and more than a little hot-tempered). Really, there didn't seem to be any sort of similarities between the friends, except their shared love of money.

As far as Justine was concerned, she and Raevyn were the glue that held the school together. That was, at least, what she told the various teachers who tried to shut down her operation. If there was gambling or betting going on anywhere in the school, she was behind it, to be sure. She brought down the walls between the cliques, if only for a few moments, as they all went to her and shared one thing; the loss of their lunch money. Really, she would add, as the teachers would drag her down the hall by her arm or ear, they should give her an award for the beautiful, unifying deeds she was doing for the school.

Though the reasoning never seemed to work, that was all right with her, as well. Detention kids had money, too, and she was more than happy to spend her afternoon taking it. She was a free spirit, a free, money-making spirit. One could be sure of that.

Raevyn watched silently as the now-broke, irritated students stalked off to their respective tables. Standing at attention, her normal stance while Justine was conducting business, she found it a good time to think. Because, contrary to popular belief, she did have thoughts in her head, and not just about beating people up. Though, that did take up a good portion of them.

Over the past three days, Raevyn had noticed, the cliques had been butting heads more often than all of last year. Though she'd never say so, this worried her. Not only would it take away from business if people were too busy fighting amongst themselves to go gamble a bit, but also, Principal Adlam was using the fights as distractions, pointing them out to take the spotlight off his ever-growing list of school policies. That had to stop.

She glanced at the 'power houses' of Medgerick, as she liked to call them. The popular ones, the leaders of their respective cliques. There were many of them, but only one with a substantial weakness. A weakness she was going to use to its potential.

"Rave, you okay? Bell's about to ring, and Ross Kingle didn't pay for that last round," Justine said, looking up at her friend curiously.

Raevyn jumped, not used to being interrupted in the middle of thinking (or plotting, as it were). Nodding, she cracked her knuckles. "I'll get him in a minute. Hey, Jess, what do you think of Trish Williams?"

"Nice girl," Justine shrugged, sliding her card decks back into her backpack. "Doesn't spend enough money, though. Why?"

"Just wondering," Raevyn said, before allowing a small smile to flash across her face.

Oh yes, she was going to put Adlam back in his place. And maybe make a bit of profit, as well. Making her way across the lunchroom, she stopped in front of the table she had politely christened the SS 'Band Geek' with a bottle of Henry Weinhart's her Sophomore year. That was also the year Medgerick put a ban on all glass bottles, ironically enough.

"Hey, nerds, shut up and listen up," she snapped, slamming her fist down and causing the whole table to stop their chatter and stare at her.

Scanning the table, she smirked. Many of these people she had known (and been stealing lunch money from) since grade school. Nicole Hunter, flute player to the core with her short brown and green eyes. Rebecca Fulton, nearly the best drummer at Medgerick, with short blonde hair, light blue eyes and so many freckles that they threatened to all merge together and make her skin entirely that color. Second best only, in fact, to Gabrielle Adler, a prodigal drummer from the moment she picked up two sticks, and a real looker, with long, dirty-blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She, however, was absent from the table, Raevyn noted, and had been since the middle of the previous year, when she had, for some reason, dropped her drum sticks and taken up with the gothic crowd.

Finally, her eyes fell upon her target. Sitting at the end of the table next to her boyfriend and King Band Geek, Ivan Hortes, was Jessa Lynch, First Chair Flute player and talented ballerina. With her willowy figure, long golden-brown hair and green eyes, she was perfect for the center stage of any ballet production. However, she far out-dazzled her significant other, whose short blonde hair, blue eyes, spectacles and slight slouch made him look completely unfit to even be near her. In fact, Raevyn never understood why the two were together, since Ivan was solely obsessed with band, being in charge and being the best ('Drum Major Syndrome', she'd heard some of the other band geeks whisper from time to time). He was the total conservative, serious thinker, while Jessa, though also obsessed with being the best and highly snobby, was a bit flighty and frivolous. But, that wasn't her problem right now.

"Jess, do you have any of those pills on you, the ones you use to throw up?" Raevyn asked, throwing tact to the wind, as usual.

Jessa blinked a few times in surprise, before turning bright pink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Raevyn rolled her eyes. The bell was going to ring any moment, and she wasn't in the mood for little 'denial' games. "Come on, all dancers know what it is, and I know you have some that you save for performances in your school locker. Now either you give me one, and I'll just forget about your little $50.00 tab with Justine, or I'll go break into your locker and get them myself. Which one will it be?"

"I don't make myself throw up," Jessa said, looking nervously at her tablemates before standing up and walking over to Raevyn. "That's medication to calm me down, I have high anxiety, especially before a performance. Throwing up just a side effect, sometimes."

"And I'm the Queen of England. Look, you're breaking my heart," Raevyn paused to stifle a yawn, "but you got two seconds to take me to your locker and get me that stuff."

"Fine," Jessa whispered, before turning back to her table. "Ivan, be a dear and bring my stuff to class with you when you go, would you? Great."

Not bothering to make sure Raevyn was following, Jessa strutted through the cafeteria, head held high. Raevyn did, indeed, following, trying not to skip in delight. Her plan was going to work, she was sure of it.

"How could this happen?"

Trish's moan seemed to echo through the ever-emptying halls of Medgerick High as the last bell rang. She leaned against the wall outside her classroom, slamming her head against it. Laura stood beside her, trying not to laugh at her outburst. Aurelia, however, seemed to be in agreement with Trish's anguished state.

"That was horrible of Ms. McRay! If it wasn't for that stupid Raevyn Von Stefan suddenly getting sick in the middle of the class, he never would have been reassigned as your partner," Aurelia sighed, shaking her head.

Sarah shook her head, trying as always to keep some sort of peace in the group. "It wasn't really Raevyn's fault… McRay could have chosen a better fit for you, though."

Aside from Creative Writing, Web Design was the only class the girls shared together (except Lindsey, who decided to stay in Creative Writing but opt out of Web Design for 'History of Fashion', to no one's great surprise).

Trish joined in the sigh. "If it had been anyone else, that would have been all right. But him? Why not just give me a failing grade right now and save everyone time."

"Your high regard for my intellect is ego-enhancing," a voice called from the doorway, causing all four girls to jump. Turning around slowly, they saw the object of their latest griping, Michael Richards, leaning against the classroom doorway with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. "We need to talk about the project. Now, if you wouldn't mind."

"See you later, guys," Trish said, waving the other girls off before walking over to Michael.

Even in the best light, this was a bad situation. Michael Richards, for the brown-haired, hazel eyed, 5'11 hunk that he was, was also a goth. The lead goth at Medgerick, in fact, and both her brother _and_ her boyfriend's sworn enemy. The fact that he was also at the mall yesterday, during 'the incident' as she now liked to call it, didn't help matters at all.

How this was going to work, Trish had no idea. Were it just for a short, overnight project that they were teamed up, she could probably deal with it. But this project that had so kindly been assigned by their Web Design teacher was to build and update a web-site, and would be their only project for the entire semester. And also, their entire grade.

"So let's make this quick and painless, shall we? You still have a year to mess around and play on your cell phone, and I need this class to graduate. So how about you just do what you do best, sit and look stupid, and I'll do the project. We'll keep interaction to a minimum, and it will be practically painless for all involved parties." With that, Michael looked at her, waiting for her stamp of approval of his ingenious plan.

Instead, she crossed her arms and glared at him, shaking her head. "I'm not stupid, and I _will_ be doing my part of this project, which is at least half the work. I signed up for this class to learn something, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. So you're just going to have to suck it up and work with me. Are we understanding each other?"

Michael looked momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered, narrowing his eyes. "Look, Princess, everyone knows you're used to getting whatever you want. But you're not talking to your brother or one of his idiot cronies anymore. I'm not failing this class because it helps you sleep at night to pretend that you're actually capable of doing something useful to anyone beside yourself."

He raised his voice at the last part, causing some of the people nearby to turn and look. Turning pink from anger and embarrassment, she poked him in the chest. "Sorry to knock you off your high horse, but I am capable of doing useful things, and you better hope so, because I'm doing my share of this project. And don't you dare speak to me that way again, or else-"

"Or else _what_?" he demanded, grabbing her offending finger a bit tighter than was comfortable.

She never got a chance to respond. Before either one of the pair could blink, Trey came barreling into Michael, knocking him up against the door post and holding him there with a forearm not-so-gently placed against Michael's neck. There was a short amount of stunned silence, before Trish cleared her throat.

"Er, Trey? I don't think he can breathe," Trish said, looking toward Trey's usual crowd of followers, who had, of course, followed him here, for help.

Aaron Chapman, always the voice of reason, and one of her favorite of Trey's entourage, nodded to her. Grabbing his arms, Aaron pulled a very red-faced Trey off the also, now, very red-faced Michael. For a moment everyone held their breath, unsure if Trey would turn on Aaron, as he looked livid enough to do so. But they all slightly relaxed when Trey shook him off lightly, and narrowed his eyes (thankfully, they were both back to almost-perfect condition) at Michael.

"Don't _ever_ touch my sister," Trey said in a low voice, obviously trying to keep his temper down.

"That's right, because you decide exactly who can touch her, and how. I forgot," Michael smirked, rubbing his neck.

No one even bothered to stop Trey this time, as he jumped on Michael and began punching him. After a moment, afraid that a teacher would notice the increasingly intense brawl in the middle of the hallway, Aaron and Tara Quinn, Trey's girlfriend, pulled the two boys apart. Panting, the two boys glared at each other, until Trish's voice interrupted their little staring-contest.

"You're disgusting." Shaking her head, and leaving it up to them to decide which of the boys she was talking to, she stormed off down the hall, furiously wiping away the tears that came into her eyes.

She heard footsteps behind her, but ignored them and walked faster. The last thing she wanted was a pity party right at the moment. Apparently, that was not what her pursuer was going for, either, as he grabbed her arm and spun her around. Surprised, she lost her footing and fell right into one of the last people she wanted to talk to. Trey.

"What were you doing with him?" Trey demanded, setting her back onto her feet as gently as he could, despite his angry tone. "Michael Richards? What were you thinking?"

"We have a project together in one of our classes, Trey," Trish said defensively, crossing her arms. "I was thinking about getting a good grade. Is that all right with you?"

After she said it, she realized she shouldn't have. One thing she could always count on with her brother, especially after a fight or a sports game or in front of his friends, was his need to be in control, and right. And now that she'd just challenged that, she knew they were in for a fight.

"Actually, it's not all right," Trey snapped. "I won't have my sister being seen with Michael Richards. If you've got a project to do, you do it in class, or after hours in the library. What do you think people would say, if they saw you two together, walking around like you were pals?"

"Who cares?" Trish shrugged, glancing around for Trey's entourage that had conveniently disassembled. "They'd be talking about me, anyway, not you. So why does it matter?"

"Because you're my sister! Everything about you is carried over to me! If people think you've gone goth, they'll think I have, too. Or at least, accept it. We're the Williams, we have a reputation to uphold!" Trey said, looking livid.

"Maybe that's the problem, Trey," she said, quickly becoming just as angry as he was. "It's always about you, or our stupid 'family reputation'. What you want, what makes you look good, what makes the family look good. From the moment I stepped into this school I was nothing but your shadow, and I hate it! I hate you!"

Whatever else might have been said was halted by her last statement, as both siblings stared, wide-eyed, at each other. They'd had more than their share of petty sibling squabbles, but never anything this big. The word 'hate' had never been used between them, and she regretted it instantly.

Trey stood still for a moment, before shaking his head. "Everything I've done at this school, everything I've said and every friend I've made, was to make it easier for you. I wanted you to have the right clothes, the right friends and the right reputation, so that High School would be easy for you. I wanted you," he said, his voice so quiet that she had to strain to hear him, "I wanted you to have it all."

Later, after pondering his statement, she would come to realize that she believed him. But at that moment, she was too caught up in anger buried under years of repression that she couldn't stop herself. Wouldn't stop herself. "But that's just it. I never wanted it!" Her voice shook as she yelled, and instantly she lowered it, shaking her head. "I never wanted any of it."

She watched the pain register in her older brother's eyes until she had to turn away. Walking away, knowing he wouldn't follow, she let out a long sigh as she came to the front doors of the school and realized she had no way home, and no place to go. All the students were gone, except a lone car sitting in the middle of the parking lot. Walking over to it, she tapped on the window, and jumped back when she realized who was sitting inside.

"What do you want?"

Making her way over to the passenger's side and sliding in the car, she slammed the door and buckled her seatbelt. "Just drive. We've got some things to discuss."

As he peeled out obediently (which was a surprise to the both of them), she thought back to what her brother had said, and wondered what he'd think of her taking a ride from Michael Richards. Maybe he wouldn't mind, since no one else saw. Maybe he would even be proud of her for standing up for herself and doing what she needed to do, though he'd never tell her. Maybe he wasn't as perfect as she always thought he was. Maybe he'd never wanted any of it, either.

* * *

**Next Chapter - **Ashleigh doesn't need a tutor. And definitely not a Jock-bot tutor. But is he really as bad as he seems? Is an unlikely couple about to spring from a very awkward start? And what is in James's little brown bag? 


	6. Tutoring Trials

* * *

Third period, Algebra II, Ashleigh Bennett's least favorite part of the day. If it wasn't bad enough that math was her worst and most-hated subject, this class was filled to the brim with moronic jocks that seemed to be getting the material better than she was. Talk about adding insult to injury. Normally, with five minutes to the bell, she would be beginning to feel better, but not today. After only four days in school, her teacher had asked her to meet with him after the period to 'discuss a few things'.

She tapped her pencil on her desk, running a hand through her long, wavy brown hair. If ever she were to be struck by lightning, she mused, now would be the time. The bell rang, too soon for her liking, and the class emptied out. Picking up her bag, she made her way over to the front.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Kane?" Ashleigh asked, determined to make this quick. She had a drama club meeting taking place in a few minutes, and she was certainly not going to miss that for a chat with her boring math teacher.

Mr. Kane, an older man with white hair and a monotone voice, nodded briefly. "Normally I wait until further along in the semester, but I've had you in class before, Ashleigh, and I know you're a bright student. If you'd just apply yourself more, I'm sure you could be..."

'_Not the 'apply yourself' speech again'_, Ashleigh thought to herself. Cutting him off, she crossed her arms. "What is this regarding, Sir?"

"Well," Mr. Kane said, obviously put off at the interruption, "I'm assigning you a tutor."

"A... _what_?" Ashleigh exclaimed, her green eyes flashing. "Why? You can't do that!"

Mr. Kane looked positively unimpressed by her outburst. "Actually, I can, and I did. It's a new program, geared toward bright students such as yourself, who are in need of a bit of assistance in applying themselves to a subject. Principal Adlam's creation, of course. You will meet with him five hours a week. The distribution of those hours will be up to the two of you. Do you realize, Ms. Bennett, that you got a zero on the first-day quiz?"

Considering she left over half of the questions blank, it really wasn't much of a surprise. "Well, maybe I did, but I was just having a bad day! That's not enough to assign me a tutor! I'm not stupid, I don't need help."

"You barely passed your last math course, and the one before. You won't pass this one, unless you get some help," Mr. Kane said sharply. Softening, he smiled a bit. "Besides, your tutor is a fine young man, well versed in his mathematics. I'm sure you'll find the whole thing quite enjoyable."

'_And when I egg your car, I trust you'll find the whole thing _quite_ enjoyable. Stupid Adlam, stupid 'new creation', stupid math.'_ Ashleigh sighed. "Who is this guy?"

"David, would you please come in?" Mr. Kane called, looking at the doorway.

Ashleigh's jaw dropped as the handsome, well-built boy walked inside the classroom. Dave Maltic, jock to the core, representative of everything boring, conservative and brainwashed, was going to tutor her in math? This had to be some sort of sadistic joke.

Mr. Kane, however, did not appear to be laughing. Nodding to Dave, he motioned toward Ashleigh. "Ashleigh Bennett, this is Dave Maltic, your tutor."

"I thought, since I know we both have the same lunch, we might start sessions then, and work from there?" Dave said, offering his hand.

She ignored it, choosing instead to focus on getting her jaw to close before she choked on a fly. "I have drama club meetings at lunch," she managed at last, narrowing her eyes. "You know, drama, that thing where people act?"

Dave glanced at Mr. Kane, putting his hand down slowly. "Well, all right, how about after school? I have practice until around 6, but I could meet you somewhere after that."

"I have play practice until 9, sorry. I'm in a local troupe, you understand," she shrugged.

Dave looked exasperated. "Saturday afternoons? We could do it as one straight shot."

"Can't, that's when we perform," she shook her head. "And don't even think about Sunday, it would be against my religion. Guess this tutoring this just isn't going to work out. Too bad, it would have been great. Be seeing you tomorrow, then? Bye!"

Making her way past Dave, she was almost out the door when Mr. Kane spoke. "Since David is the only tutor available for this class, if you cannot find a way to work with him, Principal Adlam has instructed that you be tutored by none other than himself, in his office, after school. Shall I call him now and tell him to expect you?"

In a flash she was at Dave's side, scribbling down her cell phone number. "Come to think of it, Sunday would work, I'm really not as religious as I probably should be. Call me, we'll work out the details, right? Great, great."

Rushing out the door, she grumbled all the way to the drama room. Though Jock-Boy was most definitely an evil, Adlam was far greater, with his great boring speeches and pervy glances at girls' behinds. Spending afternoons with him was simply not going to happen.

But, as she threw open the door and stomped inside the room, she still didn't like it. Jocks and Drama people had always been rivals at Medgerick, and it had only heightened when the cliques had become tighter. Drama people, her people, were tired of sharing the spotlight in the spring Musicals and the winter plays with cheerleaders and jocks with very little talent but very loaded parents. And Jocks were tired of being looked down upon by Drama people, or something like that. Ashleigh hardly paid attention to their lousy justifications for beating up and harassing her friends.

Taking a seat in the circle, she smiled at the group and waved slightly. "Sorry I'm late, got tied up."

Across from her, Shannyn O'Toole let out an un-ladylike grunt, causing all heads to whip toward her. "Tied up by Dave Maltic? Well, isn't that kinky. In school, no less."

Sighing, Ashleigh prepared herself for another 'Shannyn battle', as she had so fondly named them. The two had been rivals since the earliest days of grade school, though neither was sure how it all started. It simply just had always been, over everything from grades, to popularity, to acting, even to boyfriends. That particular fight had gotten particularly nasty last year, when Shannyn and Ashleigh had both fallen for Dominic Adelio, resident Latino heartthrob and acting genius.

As with most of their competitions, Ashleigh had won, and was still going strong with Dominic. However, that never stopped Shannyn from doing her best to try to break the two apart, even now.

"Spying on me, were you? That's... weird. But hardly surprising, coming from you. Dave is just doing a favor for me, actually. Besides, I would never lower myself to screwing a _jock_. I leave committing that sort of bestiality to you, since you do it _oh-so _well," Ashleigh said, giving Shannyn a sweet smile and a wink.

Shannyn's face turned as red as her hair, and her blue eyes narrowed into slits, but she didn't reply. Pleased with her victory, Ashleigh settled back in her seat and watched as the meeting came to order.

* * *

"You've got to do _what_? With _who_? You're kidding!"

Dave Maltic watched with mild amusement as Robert Young, his longtime teammate and friend, nearly walked into a door, still shell-shocked from the news that he had just laid on him.

"I said," Dave repeated, pausing in his walking so as to help Robert avoid anymore close-calls with open doors, "I'm going to tutor that drama chic, Ashleigh Bennett. She was having some trouble with math."

"A drama chic? That's great. First of all, Trey's going to think you're cheating on Trish, and kill you. Second of all, everyone's going to think you've gone all... drama-lover, and shun you. Third of all, doesn't she like, hate anyone with a letter jacket or something?" Robert asked.

Dave often joked that Robert should one day become a fiction author, but it was times like this when he believed it whole-heartedly. For Robert, going off on wild tangents and weaving fanatical stories about his friends was a favorite pastime, second only to making out with his girlfriend, Lindsey McDonnell. In fact, if it hadn't been for his raw athletic ability and dashing good looks that had doomed him to popularity, Dave was certain Robert would be an aspiring author now, hanging around with the Honors kids.

Not to say that Dave was any different. The same qualities that fated Robert to where he was, fated Dave to the same place. He had always been a big guy, first growing tall, then gaining lots of muscle. And despite sport injuries (which included a cracked skull, two missing molars and a rather jagged scar by one of his temples) he was still rather handsome, with short brown hair and deep brown eyes. So a jock was what he was, destined to be followed by other good-looking, talented guys, and beautiful girls who wanted to boost their own popularity by being seen with him. None of them really cared if he was smart or not, if he had goals or dreams or even cares at all. Not that he minded.

Very much, anyway.

Shrugging, Dave made his way for the cafeteria again. "Yeah, she didn't seem exactly thrilled at the whole idea of me tutoring her, but I think she'll get over it. As for the rest of it, I won't be shunned, and Trey and Trish will ever have to know about this. You just _want_ me to be shunned, so you can take over as best linebacker!"

Dodging a good-natured shove from Robert, Dave pushed open the cafeteria doors and made his way over to his usual table. Making his way through the mesh of cheerleaders and jocks, he sat down near the head of the table and pulled out his lunch.

"Hey, you eating good for the game on Friday?" Marty Bowen, the star receiver and all-around nice guy, asked.

Dave and Robert exchanged looks, trying not to laugh. If anyone needed to eat more, it was Marty. About 5'11, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a rather large nose, Marty was skinny as a rail. Their Coach was always on him to eat more, lest he be squashed the next time he was tackled. Marty did as he was told, like always, but he never seemed to gain a pound. It was an on-going joke between he and Rose Stokes, Jack's girlfriend, that if they could just trade metabolisms, they'd both be happy.

"Yeah," Dave nodded to him at last, holding up his bulky lunch bag.

He spread out his lunch, doing his best to ignore the ruckus around him. Normally he didn't mind, and sometimes he even enjoyed it, but after the rather unpleasant meeting with Ashleigh, he really wasn't in the mood to do anything but eat and go back to class. Not that her reaction had surprised him; anyone else would have probably done the same thing. And why shouldn't they? In this school, all he was was another stupid jock, breezing his way through classes and picking on those who weren't like him. His friends thought so, his teachers, even his girlfriend. No one thought he was smart. Let alone had feelings. He was just another Jock-bot.

"So will you guess what I heard?" Robert's voice snapped him out of his self-pitying thoughts, as it rang clear through the now-silent table. "Guess who's gonna be a tutor?"

'_Oh no_.' Dave groaned to himself. "Rob, come on, just drop-" he began.

Robert ignored him, looking positively gleeful at the attention. "Our own Dave M! Who knew he was a smart guy? Not turning into a brain on us, are you? And he's tutoring Ashleigh Bennett! What a stud."

That statement was apparently hilarious, causing the whole table to roar with laughter, though Dave felt he had definitely missed the amusing part. As the laughter continued, his face began to flush as he tried to control his rage. He had been wrong to think he was just a body to these people, these supposed 'friends'. Oh no, he was a joke, too.

"No, I'm not 'turning into a brain'," Dave spat, causing the table to sober quickly. "But at least I have one."

Despite the urge to stay and enjoy the stunned silence, he grabbed his bag and his lunch and made his way for the door. He nearly laughed at the shouts of protest and pleading to come back, but he decided that there would be time for that later. Now, he just wanted to be alone, and eat his lunch in peace, for the first time in a long time.

He rounded the corner toward the parking lot, and stopped dead in his tracks. Leaning against a locker, a cigarette hanging from his smirking lips and a small bag in his hand, stood James O'Leary. '_Of course_,' Dave sighed, rolling his eyes. Just when he thought the day couldn't get any worse. And in front of James stood a young boy, 15 at most, holding out money and nervously glancing around.

Casting a mournful glance at his lunch, he shoved it back in his bag and made his way over to the two. Grabbing the younger boy by the shoulder, he gave him a quick shake before crossing his arms. "What's going on here, guys?"

"N-nothing," the boy squeaked out, glancing at James for help, and receiving only an amused sneer. "We were j-just talking. Hey, hey, aren't you Dave Maltic? You made that grand slam last year during baseball season!"

"Yeah, I am. And you must be that kid that's about to be suspended for purchasing something most likely illegal, right? Unless, of course, you're that kid that's about to run down the hallway as fast as he can," Dave replied, nodding toward the empty hallway.

The boy took the hint, sprinting off down the hall. Dave watched him go, before turning back to James. "So, nice to see you again, James. Juvy didn't want you either, I take it?"

James looked at him, the amused look never leaving his eyes as he took a long drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke right into Dave's face. "Never was one to over-stay my welcome, Maltic. Besides, I couldn't leave my girl here, all alone, now could I? Of course, that is what you want."

Clenching and unclenching his fist, Dave took a few deep breaths before responding. "You're not good enough for Liz."

"And who is, exactly? You?" When Dave didn't respond, James gave a short laugh. "Honestly, Mate, I see how you look at her. Well, you can't bloody well have her, she's my girl and short of running me over with a very large vehicle, there's nothing you can do about that. But by all means, keep going with your nasty little fantasies, I'm sure your girlfriend will notice soon enough. Or, maybe I should just save us all time and go tell her myself..."

Any further conversation was cut off as Dave grabbed James's jacket and shoved him into the lockers. "You stay the hell away from my girlfriend, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Liz, too."

James blinked, then glanced down at the floor where his cigarette lay, flung down in the scuffle. "We've been down this road before, and I can see why you'd be upset with me, but what the hell did my fag ever do to you?"

"Your _what_?" Dave asked, getting ready to lunge again.

"My cigarette, man, my cigarette!" James sighed, rolling his eyes.

Dave glared at James, who, with no cigarette, had nothing better to do than glare back. Neither boy moved, too engrossed with their silent battle of the death-stares to breathe. Finally, Dave broke his gaze, taking a deep breath and scanning the boy in front of him critically.

He was a tall guy, probably pushing 6'5, with a 'wiry' build (at least, that's what he called it), stylish black hair and piercing blue eyes. Usually clothed in black leather whenever he was outside the school, every inch of him seemed to scream 'bad boy', from the numerous fights to the gambling to the time in the local juvenile detention center. In short, he was every girl's dream guy. Unfortunately, he had chosen to turn his affections to Dave's longtime friend and schoolmate, Liz. And despite numerous warnings from Dave and most of her other friends, Liz had fallen the boy, hook, line, and sinker.

It wasn't that Dave _liked_ Liz, so much as he just plain liked her. Despite having such a large clique, there were few in it that he could talk to, and fewer still who actually listened. As far as he could tell, she was the only one. And yeah, maybe he did like her a bit more than what was friendly, but he could control that. He had a beautiful, intelligent girlfriend already; he was just trying to look out for a good friend. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Whatever the reason, he knew this might be his only chance to show James for what he really was; a good for nothing criminal. Glancing down, Dave snatched the small brown bag from James's hand. "So, what were you trying to sell that poor kid? Tell me it's coke, or heroin, that would be great. One of the campus security guys should be making his way by here any minute now."

"Sorry to spoil your day, Mate," James said, looking positively, sadistically cheerful as he grabbed the bag back and turned it over, allowing the contents to spill onto the ground, "As you can see, I was only selling him some answer keys to his History exams. Bad, yes, but hardly criminal."

At Dave's look of fury, James calmly reached down and picked up the folded sheets of paper, before straightening back up and giving Dave a light slap on the cheek. "But, since you want to so badly, let's go, shall we? You can escort me to the Principal's office, and I'll get suspended for a few days. Of course, you'll probably be known as a rat from then on, and Liz will probably never forgive you, but, I'm sure you've thought of all this already, right? Right then, so, you lead, or shall I?"

"Touch me again, and I'll break your hands, are we clear?" Dave demanded, looking even more livid than before.

" Crystal," James nodded, obviously enjoying pushing Dave's temper as far as possible. "So, just to satisfy my own morbid curiosity, this whole 'no touching' rule, is it just for me, or for everyone? Because I have to say, that could really put a damper on your relationship with your girlfriend, and definitely explains your overload of testosterone."

"It's just," Dave said slowly, wondering if it wouldn't be worth the weeklong suspension to just beat the daylights out of James, "for you."

"Really? I didn't know you cared!" James gave him a wide smile, before spotting another young boy peering towards them from across the hall. "Listen, you're not going to turn me in, so let's just call this a day and let me go back to my business? I have another customer waiting."

Taking Dave's grunt as an affirmative, James gave him a mock-salute and made his way over to the small boy. Dave watched him go, before slamming his fist into a nearby locker. No longer hungry, he tossed his lunch in a nearby trash can and headed out the front doors.

Just another day as a Jock-bot.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it was the sweetest car ever!" Hannah Audley exclaimed, her bright green eyes wide with excitement as she gushed on about the new car her father would be racing from now on.

The other tenants of the courtyard table rolled their eyes, some sighing, while others muttered things like 'here they go' and 'so much for this lunch' under their breath.

Phyllis Ingles, or Filly, as she liked to be called (despite the number of less than kosher remarks often made about the nickname), slapped her hand down on the table, causing a few people around her to jump in surprise. The ones that didn't know her well, anyway. "For the hundredth time, it's lame! The engine is weak, and if he does manage to qualify for the top 25, he'll be sitting on the bubble. The only thing you like about it is the paint job."

"The _paint job_? I taught you everything you know about cars, Ingles!" Hannah snapped, standing up, thoroughly insulted.

"Your dad taught me everything I know, Audley! Not you!" Filly shouted back, standing up as well.

The two girls stood, nose to nose, staring each other down with equally menacing glares. All was still for a moment, before Hannah shrugged. "It is a pretty purple though, isn't it?"

Filly nodded. "After I saw it, I thought about painting my room that shade. What do you think, will it match the furniture?"

The two girls sat down, chattering away calmly, as though nothing had happened. Those new to the group stared at them, bewildered. "They're always like that," Max Salvatore offered, shrugging and taking a bite of his sandwich.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way, would you, Maxwell?" Hannah grinned, leaning over and hugging him.

"Actually..." Max began, then paused when he noticed Filly's narrowing eyes, "No, not at all."

"Of course. Come on, I'm bored, let's get out of here," Filly said, standing up and motioning for Hannah and Max to do the same.

The two stood up, but gave each other a wary eye. "Err, Fil, you know we've got two more classes, right?" Max called.

Filly shrugged. "I know there are two classes that will go on with or without us. If you want to go sit through the History of Boring and that English catastrophe class, be my guest. But I'm going to the tracks."

Sighing, Hannah and Max rushed to catch up with her, ignoring the looks from the rest of their friends. It was hardly an unusual sequence of events; it usually just varied in times and people. But somehow, two of the three of them always got into a fight, then one would propose leaving, and away the trio would be. There was no real leader, so to speak, of the three. In fact, they were all so similar in personality that if they didn't look so different (and Max weren't a male), they could easily have been mistaken for triplets.

Maxwell Salvatore was the oldest of three at almost 19 years old, and often called himself 'the voice of reason'. Whether that was true or not, depended on who one spoke to about it. 5'7, with light brown eyes and brown hair slicked back in a tidy fashion, Max was pure Italian, and proud to be. Though, he wouldn't have minded a few extra inches in height, to make it easier to slam on the gas.

Filly was the youngest, and most likely the craziest, though that was really rather difficult to gauge. With long, dark auburn hair and dark green eyes she was truly an Australian beauty, not that she cared. Looks, to her, were not nearly as important as the muscle cars whose pictures were posted all over her bedroom walls.

Hannah was in the middle, and usually in more ways than one, especially when Max and Filly would start again on their 'Muscles vs. Classics' argument. Her father was an international racing champion, and her mother a Harley Girl (which she only a year ago found out meant a pin-up girl in Harley ads), so the root to her love of racing was obvious. Of course, unlike Filly, she didn't mind skipping the tracks for a date once in awhile. And with her jet-black hair, green eyes and well-endowed figure, that was a good thing, since she had boys nearly lining up to take her out.

They had been friends since their freshman year, coming together over their love of racing, and cars in general. They led the 'racers' clique, and wouldn't give a second glance to anyone who didn't know what a slick or drafting was, or would rather watch the Super Bowl than Happy Hour.

The three hurried through the courtyard and over toward Filly's Monte Carlo, which gleamed in the afternoon sun with an air of superiority only an MC could. Before they could make it there, however, a shout came from behind them. The trio turned around slowly and saw a football coming straight for them. Before anyone could react any further, however, Marty Bowen was lying directly atop Hannah, football in hand.

"I've heard of this, this is 'hello' in one of those European countries, right?" Hannah asked somewhat calmly, looking more than a bit stunned.

Marty stared down at her for a moment, looking equally shocked, before scrambling up and sheepishly offering his hand down to her. "I'm so sorry, err... Hannah, right? That pass went way wrong! I was just trying to grab it before it nailed you, I didn't realize I'd... well..."

"Almost nail her yourself?" Filly offered, receiving a high-five from Max and a glare from Hannah, who was still strewn out across the pavement.

Hannah grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, dusting herself off and rubbing the back of her head as Marty blushed furiously. "It's okay, I'm fine. Nothing like bashing your head on the pavement to start the afternoon off, right? Thanks for trying."

"N-no problem," Marty stammered, his cheeks red with embarrassment as he turned and ran back toward the school. "Sorry again!"

"Was that last comment really necessary, Filly?" Hannah muttered as she turned and made her way towards the car again.

"I think it was," Max nodded, winking at Filly, who grinned back. "Why, is our little Hannah-kins going soft? Come on, it was just a jock, messing with their heads is something we always do. Picking on the peons."

"Whatever," Hannah called, walking faster.

"I think our little Hannah-kins has a crush!" Max mock-whispered, raising an eyebrow.

"And to think," Filly smirked, nodding, "All it took was jumping on top of her. I guess all those boys who bought her flowers and chocolate were way off base!"

"Damnit, I should have tried that," Max sighed, snapping his fingers. "Well, there goes my secret, angsty love for my beautiful, model-like best friend. But, that's all right. I still have my Australian-Beauty best friend to lust after, right?"

Filly rolled her eyes, starting towards her car. "Keep dreaming, you pervert. It's about as likely to happen as those worthless, junky old cars you call 'classics' becoming better than muscle cars."

Max followed after her, happy "Okay, first of all, most muscle cars are all looks, with nothing under the hood. Classics, my dear, classics..."

The two squabbled all the way to the car, and were soon joined by Hannah, who was still angry with the both of them (but had forgotten why, as was usual). And then, after a few minutes, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The three grinned widely at each other, jumped in the car, and sped off away from the school.

Marty watched them from the front doors, still blushing. '_Who knew one of those racer girls was so pretty?_' he thought to himself.

"Marty, you okay? Lunch is almost over, we should be heading to Chemistry." Came a voice from behind him.

Jumping in surprise, he turned around to see his Chemistry lab-partner and friend, Sarah Fitz, standing behind him with her hands on her hips. Looking both amused and worried, she still managed to appear stunning, though that hardly surprised Marty. With her curly brown hair and light hazel eyes, she could wear a brown paper bag and a twisted grimace and would still look great. She was a cheerleader, and a very popular one at that, though unlike many of the others on the squad, she maintained her image of being nice to everyone. And that was precisely why they were friends.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he nodded, straightening up. "Just thinking."

The worried look vanished from her face, leaving only amusement. "About a certain girl you flattened a few minutes ago? That's going to be all over school by the end of the day, you know. Everyone saw it."

"Great. Now I'm going to be called a woman-abuser, right?" he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, I think the rumors are going something like... 'Did you see those two? At school, no less! Have some shame!'" Sarah grinned, then laughed outright at the look of horror on Marty's face. "Don't worry, that's just what one of the band nerds said. Relax. You like her though, don't you?"

"Well, she seems really nice," Marty shrugged. "But after an introduction like that, I'd say my chances on ever speaking to her again are slim to none."

"Probably," Sarah agreed, then blinked at his look of shock. "What?"

Marty rolled his eyes, grabbing his book bag and heading back into the school. "You're not supposed to agree with me! What kind of supportive friend are you?"

"The honest kind?" Sarah offered, laughing as she hurried to catch up to him.

"She sure was pretty though, wasn't he?" he added, almost as an afterthought as he held open the door for her.

Sarah grinned, mock-curtseying and walking in. "Yeah, she is. But trust me, it's better that you don't try to get involved with her. Far as I've heard, she dates around, but if you don't have four tires and a steering wheel, she's not seriously interested. Besides, her two friends come with the deal, they're sort of a package. And you know what a bad idea it is to try and mix cliques."

"I know," Marty nodded, sighing. "I can't wait to graduate and get away from this school."

Slinging an arm over his shoulder, Sarah smiled softly. "Neither can anyone else, Bowen. Neither can anyone else."

* * *

Ashleigh paced nervously around the empty classroom, glancing at the clock overhead every few moments. It was two minutes after 5, and Dave was not here, though they had decided to cut out of their various responsibilities early to meet up at 5. "He's not going to be here," she muttered, grabbing her book bag off the floor. "Typical jock, this was probably a some kind of joke."

"Ash, calm down, he's two minutes late. He'll be here. Dave's a nice guy, just give him a chance," said Sarah Richards, her best friend who she had dragged out of rehearsal to come wait with her.

Ashleigh glanced over at Sarah, and sighed. With reddish-brown hair and wide, clear blue eyes, Sarah wasn't the most extraordinary of girls, but her gentle demeanor, soft voice and sharp mind made it hard for anyone to dislike her. They had bonded over Hamlet in the fifth grade, and been best friends since. Unfortunately, despite her humility and charm, Sarah had this annoying way of always being right, which irritated Ashleigh to no end. In their friendship, Ashleigh was definitely the take-charge, loud one who always had the spotlight, but Sarah was always the one with the right thing to say.

"Sure, take his side. All right, it's been three minutes, I've waited long enough. Let's go," Ashleigh said, grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

She pulled open the door, and was nearly knocked down by a breathless Dave.

"Sorry! Coach made me run a mile for having to cut out early, and I figured you'd probably want me to take a shower after that, before we had to meet and be in close proximity of each other. You ready to study?" Dave asked, smiling.

"Have fun, you two," Sarah said, giving them a wink before walking out quietly. She almost wished she could stay and watch the fireworks, but decided it was best to let them figure things out on their own.

Ashleigh rolled her eyes, throwing her bag on the nearest desk. "Whatever. Let's just do this, and get it over with."

"Right," Dave sighed, losing his cheerful demeanor. So much for this being even slightly enjoyable. "So, basics today, I guess we can go over how to use your calculator."

"I know how to use a calculator, thanks," Ashleigh snapped, walking over and sitting at the desk. "If that's what you think I need tutoring in, you're dumber than I am!"

Dave walked over to the desk next to hers, spun it around and slammed it into hers, causing her to jump. Seating himself in it, he took her stunned silence as an opportunity to speak. "You're not dumb, all right? And if you think you are, then there's nothing I can do for you, because I can't fight you and help you at the same time. I've seen you in the school plays; you memorize hundreds of lines. You have to be smart to do that."

'_Great. I'm locked in here with a crazy jock with a short temper and a love of motivational speaking._' Deciding to keep her comments to herself (who knew when he would just up and _throw_ the desk?), she just shrugged. "That's different. I'm only dumb in math. I don't get numbers, I never have, and never will. All I want to do is pass this stupid class so I can graduate and get into a good university, and that's it."

"You're not dumb in math. And if you think you'll never use it again, then you're crazy. People use math everywhere. And once you understand it, you'll really like it. I promise." At her look of solid disbelief, he sighed. "You'll see. Now come on, take out your calculator. You've got a scientific, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, pulling it out of her bag.

"Okay, so let's start with the basics..." Dave went on to instruct her on the different buttons, and what they did.

After a few moments, Ashleigh began to tune him out. Despite him speaking of things she actually didn't know how to do (not that she'd ever let him know that), all this talk of numbers was making her sleepy, and incredibly bored. If only she were on stage right now, in front of a large audience...

"So, do you want to try that?" Dave asked, snapping her out of her daydream.

Ashleigh nodded emphatically. "Oh, right, sure." After a moment, she flipped the calculator upside down for him to see. "Like this?"

"_1134.07.06_? How did you get? That's not even a... Oh," Dave blinked, realizing what it meant. "You did that backwards, there, the seven doesn't work upside down."

"Really? Well, see, you learn something new every day!" Ashleigh grinned. She bit her lip once she saw the cold look Dave was giving her.

"Listen, I'm not getting paid for this. Hell, I'm not even getting extra credit for this. So if all you want to do is waste time, then you're going to have to do it with someone else, because I have better things to do." With that he looked over at her, waiting for her to lash out so he could leave. After a moment, when she didn't say anything, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I've had a bad day. That's no excuse, I know. Can we just start over?"

"I don't want to start over, I want to get out of here," she snapped, throwing her calculator back in her bag. "I'm sorry I'm such a damn inconvenience, but if you do recall, this was not my idea, and I was, in fact, opposed to it. I don't understand this stuff, and I know that means I'm just dumb because everyone else gets it, and I don't need you rubbing it in! I heard your stupid friends talking about how you're tutoring me today in class. Glad I could be the daily joke for you guys."

Dave winced. "I only told one person, I didn't mean for it to get out. Look, I don't think you're dumb, I just said that. I want to help you get this stuff. And if it helps, the sooner you start getting passing marks, the sooner we can end these tutoring sessions."

"Fine," Ashleigh sighed, giving in at last. "Let's do this, then."

Smiling, Dave nodded and pulled out a notebook and wrote some problems down on a sheet before passing it over to her. "All right, since calculators will obviously have to come later, let's start with these. Can you do them?"

Staring at them, Ashleigh shook her head. "I don't know what to do with all those letters. Why are there letters in a number problem? Who's the idiot that thought that up in the first place?"

Dave laughed, getting up and walking behind her, so he could look over her shoulder at the problems. "I have no idea. But trust me, later on, you'll be glad they exist. All right, so the first thing you need to do is isolate the variable..."

Ashleigh tried not to smile as he went on, but ended up grinning widely when she successfully finished the problem. "That was kind of easy. Where did you learn to do all that?"

"Beats me. Must have been sometime when I accidentally turned my brain on in class or something," Dave shrugged, smirking. "Don't tell anyone though, you know us jocks aren't supposed to actually be able to think."

Ashleigh blushed guiltily, having said that very same statement many times. "Right. Well. On to the next problem. By the way, Dave?"

"Yeah?" Dave asked, looking at her curiously.

"That line drive you hit last year at Regionals, was way weak. My boyfriend could have hit a better one, and he's never swung a bat before in his life. Totally luck that you made it to second," she said, never looking up from the paper. When he only continued to stare at her, she looked up at him and winked. "Can't let you be the only one with surprises, could I?"

"Guess not," Dave laughed, shaking his head.

Going back to the problem, both felt a little more relaxed, though more than a bit weirded-out. A jock and a drama chick, getting along? One thing was certain; neither would be telling their respective cliques anything about this.

* * *

**Coming Up In Chapter Five**- It's the day of the big game, and everyone's excited! Though for many, it's the after-party that they're looking forward to! But for one girl, all is not fun and games as she is reminded what she gave up when she did the unthinkable and switched cliques. And someone will be hurt at the game! Who is it? Is it fatal? Tune in next time to see!


	7. Journals, Rattlesnakes & Fallen Heroes

"GO! FIGHT! WIN!"

Another year, another pep rally, and the same stupid cheer the cheerleaders always tried to teach the school. Gabrielle Adler wondered if they would ever just admit defeat as she made her way down the long wooden bleachers toward the gym doors. Two minutes into the rally, and she had already had enough. She made it to the door and was just about to walk out, when a familiar tapping sound came to her ears.

Her dark blue eyes widened as the school Marching Band made their way onto the gym floor, and began to play a song from their field show. She knew the song. She could feel her hands moving to the rhythm, desperate for a set of sticks and a drum set to play on. All thoughts of leaving fled her mind as she stared at the band. As she stared at her past.

Last year, like every year before that, she was out on that floor, drumming and marching. It was like floating, like nothing else mattered but her band and her drum. The school would clap and laugh as they watched, one of the only times everyone could enjoy the same thing. The feeling of unity in those moments was better than anything she had ever felt. Of course, that was how she always felt, when she was with the band.

But that was the past. No longer was she a band nerd, with their silly inside jokes and cult-like mentality. Now she was Gothic, and she liked it that way. Most of the time, at least.

The song came to an end, and the band marched out, perfectly in sync. They were good this year. Running a hand through her dirty blonde hair, she stood still one more moment before turning and walking out the door.

Being careful to dodge teachers, who were patrolling the school in hopes of finding skippers and stoners, she made her way out to the parking lot. Smiling, she noticed most of her friends had already made it out there.

"Hey," she called, waving slightly as she made her way over to them. "What's going on? Why are you guys still here? I thought you'd have left by now."

Joanna 'Jo' Feldman, a willowy girl of about 5'7 with long brown hair and curiously sharp blue eyes, shrugged her shoulders from her perch on the hood of a car. "Take a look up in the second story window, over the entrance."

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. Sure enough, there stood a teacher, watching the group with a scowl.

"He's just waiting for us to take off early, so he can suspend us. The sad part is, he really thinks we don't see him. He's up there, watching us, every pep rally," Jo muttered, before going back to scribbling in her notepad.

"Oh," Gabrielle said, uncomfortable with the stony silence. "So are you guys going to the football game?"

It was a lame attempt at conversation, she knew, but she wasn't sure that the looks of pure ice were completely necessary. Amie Roberts, a pretty girl with long black hair and blue eyes, finally gave in and laughed. "You're so funny, Gab. Of course we're not going. We're actually heading over to Brooklyn tonight."

"The Brooklyn Museum of Art has a new exhibit that just opened. Not that it'll probably be any good, but it's worth a look to get away from here for awhile," Rachel Lenin explained. "You want to go?"

"I... guess," Gabrielle shrugged. She'd actually planned to go to the game, but she'd walk over hot coals barefooted before she would tell them that. "Where's Kevin? Is he going?"

Kevin Sylt, her dashingly handsome brown haired, brown-eyed boyfriend of over a year now, seemed to always have a way of leaving her out of the loop until the very last minute. It wasn't that he meant too, really; with eight siblings and a truckload of aunts and uncles, half-Chinese and half-Welsh, he always had more than his share of things to do. At times like this, however, she wished he'd try just a little harder to keep her up to date.

Jo glanced up and raised her eyebrow, but decided not to comment. "He and Michael took off this morning after first period, but yeah, they'll be there."

Gabrielle opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the bell. "Well, that's the end of it. Better get out of here before this place turns into a madhouse," she said, making her way toward her car a few spaces over.

"As if it's not already?" Amie asked, cracking a smile. "Hey, wait up. I'm hungry, why don't we go get something to eat before we take off for the Museum?"

"Yeah, that sounds all right," Rachel said. "I'll ride with Gabrielle. Jo, you take Amie?"

"Sure," Jo nodded, hopping off the hood of her car and grabbing the keys out of her purse. "We'll follow you guys."

Gabrielle slid into her car and glanced around for her journal she had misplaced a few days ago, waiting for Rachel to get in before pulling out. This was the good part, the fun part of being in her group. The random outings, the cracks about High School and teen-life in general, these moments were the best.

But somehow, they didn't quite make up for the misery she felt the rest of the time.

… …

"The score is tied, 12 to 12, with only a few seconds left to go." The announcer's voice boomed from the tower high above the field. "Medgerick takes possession! This may be Medgerick's only chance to beat the Tarington Tigers!"

'_Come on, come on_,' Tara Quinn whispered to herself, watching as her teammate began taking the ball down the field.

Halfway down the field, the girl kicked the ball to Tara. This was it. This was her moment.

"Smith passes to Quinn, Quinn takes it down the field! Quinn is making her way down the field, showing off that famous footwork that won her team the league last year, she shoots, she scores! And there is the time! The Medgerick Wolves start the season off right with a victory!"

Tara smiled, the taste of victory never seeming to dull over time. The two teammates closest to her raced over to her and tackled her to the ground in a hug, followed by the rest of the team. Most of the time, it was the after-game muggings that gave Tara her various cuts and bruises, not the game itself. Not that she was complaining. This was what she lived for.

Eventually, after the usual handshakes with the other team and lecture about 'not getting swelled heads' from their coach, the team made its way into the locker room. Once the door had shut behind the last teammate, Tara jumped up on a bench.

"We are the champions, my friends!" she yelled, causing the rest of the team to cheer and laugh.

Her teammate, Megan, groaned, stripping off her grass-stained uniform and grabbing a towel. "You're not going to sing again, are you?" she called to Tara, making her way toward the showers. "I swear, you promised you wouldn't, and if you do, I'm quitting the team right now! I can't take another year of your caterwauling."

"Harsh, dude," Tara shouted, laughing as she stepped off the bench and made her way over to her locker. "I'll meet you outside, okay? I'm gonna skip the showers, I want to make it over to the football field and get some good seats!"

"Are you kidding? Dude, have you looked in a mirror? You've got so much grass in your hair it looks like it's growing out of your scalp!" Megan protested, shaking her head. "It'll be way sad when Trey shows up looking prettier than you! Besides, did you forget about Maltic's party?"

Tara seemed to think this over for a moment, before nodding. "Dude, you're right! All right, shower it is."

By then, the rest of the team had made it into the showers, and were all doing their best to get the grass out of their hair and the stains off their knees when...

"THERE'S A RATTLESNAKE IN THE SHOWER!"

The scream caused the locker room to become deathly silent. Everyone looked over in the far corner of the shower area where the scream had come from, and took a step back as a large rattlesnake began to slither its way across the tiles.

"I swear I heard a scream!" Aaron Chapman exclaimed, knocking again on the door to the girls' locker room.

"Whatever, you just want to see the girls naked," Trey Williams sighed, leaning against the wall beside his friend.

"No! ...Well, okay, maybe a bit," Aaron said, grinning sheepishly. Then he turned serious again, cracking open the door slightly. "Ladies, everything all right in there?"

When no sound came from inside, Aaron glanced over at Trey. Before the two could move, however, the door was flung open and out ran the entire soccer team, wrapped in towels and screaming. Aaron managed to jump out of the way, but Trey was not so lucky, getting hit with the full weight of the door.

"My eye!" Trey moaned, holding his now-blackening eye. "Dangit!"

"What's going on?" Aaron asked, grabbing hold of one of the girls before she could pass by.

"There's a snake!" the girl cried, before pulling away from him and running down the hall.

Aaron opened the locker room door. "What was that abou-"

"Excuse me," came a curt voice from behind him, before he was pushed roughly to the ground and stepped over.

Picking himself off the ground, he saw Adrianne 'Andy' DeMarco making her way over to the showers, followed by Skyler O'Malley and Adriana Cooper. All of them were Punks (in more ways than one, in his opinion), and all of them had it out for jocks, preps, and anyone else who 'conformed'. He'd known Andy since middle school, when she became friends with Kristina Losenge. Skyler had come in middle school as well, making a splash with her blood red-streaked brown hair, pale blue eyes and bondage pants. Adriana didn't come along until halfway through freshman year, and was the quietest of the whole clique. Most people said she was shy, though with her long red hair and striking caramel eyes, it was hard to understand why.

"There's a snake in here," Trey called from the door, still holding his bum eye.

"No, really?" Andy replied, her dark brown hair waving slightly as she bent over and picked something up off the floor.

The two boys jumped back when they saw that she was holding the rattlesnake in her arms. "That... that's a rattlesnake," Aaron said, moving closer to the door.

"And they say preps are mindless!" Skyler smirked, patting the snake on the head. "He's called Lemstra. He's Andy's pet."

Trey blinked his good eye a few times in surprise. "You have a rattlesnake as a pet?"

"Lemy here isn't a rattlesnake, she's just a common Bull snake," Andy shrugged, walking over to the two boys and holding the snake out. "However, she's often mistaken for a rattlesnake when I put this cute little rattler on her tail."

"I bought it for her at a carnival," Adriana murmured, speaking out at last. "She doesn't know how to use it well, but it makes a little bit of noise now and again."

"We were hoping to catch the cheerleaders, but this will have to do," Skyler sighed, patting Lemstra on the head. "Shall we go?"

"Sounds good," Andy nodded, before walking over to the door. Smirking at the boys, she waited until her companions had caught up to her, and then walked through, giving Trey a sharp kick in the shins.

"This never happened, right?" Skyler asked, giving the boys a warning look as she passed.

Adriana waited until the other two girls were out of ear shot, before smiling slightly at the guys. "If you think this was good, just wait until tonight. See you later, boys."

As she ran down the hall to catch up with her friends, a stunned silence fell over the boys. After a long moment, Aaron stepped out of the locker room and shut the door behind him, wide-eyed. "Should we tell someone?"

"Chapman, I was there, and even _I_ don't believe it. Just help me get to my car, I've got my eye-patch in there." Trey sighed, beginning to feel his way down the wall towards the exit. Aaron reached out to help him, but stopped when Trey suddenly halted, a wide grin flashing over his face. "Dude, we just saw the entire girls soccer team, in towels. We're like, High School Gods."

"Yeah, let's just keep it to ourselves though, huh?" Aaron responded, taking Trey's arm and leading him towards the door. "Chloe would kill me if she ever found out. And Tara wouldn't be too happy, either."

Trey rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Just shut up, and enjoy the moment."

… …

"As your Student Government President, I'm glad to be here to welcome you all, as well as family and friends, to Medgerick High's first football game of the season! Go Wolves! Remember to stop at the concession stand and help support our teams! Now if you will all please rise for the singing of our national anthem!"

Justine Burgh rolled her eyes as she stepped away from the microphone to make way for whatever mindless choir-drone was set to sing the anthem for this game. She moved toward the edge of the box to go back to the stands, when she felt a nudge in her ribs. Looking over, she raised her eyebrow at the offender, one of the marching band's drum majors who was up there for goodness knows what.

"Can I help you?" she demanded, rubbing her side.

"Are you going to show your respect for our national anthem?" The boy, whose name escaped her at the moment, asked.

Before she got a chance to speak, her brother, Arvie Burgh, who was the Student Announcer for this season, cut in.

"Our national anthem? Does it look like _our_ national anthem? Boy, the only thing that anthem represents to us is how your people dragged our people from their true countries to come over here and do labor for you for free while you whipped them."

"But she's not…" the other boy began, but Arvie was not finished, or just not listening.

"Now I know you didn't just put your hand up on my sister to tell her that, because I will knock your skinny little skin-head, Archie Andrews behind to Hawaii if you did. That's what's wrong with you white boys today, anyway. Always gotta be puttin' your hands on the ladies." The boy shrank back at Arvie's angry words, causing him to roll his eyes again and turn away, the anthem by then almost completed.

Torn between wanting to laugh or shake her brother, she merely shrugged. While she didn't share her brother's anger at the injustices that came along with the national anthem, she found that after what seemed to be a million times of hearing it, she just couldn't get up the energy to care about it. Walking out of the box and down the stairs, she was almost to her seat when a girl she recognized from as a reporter the school paper ran over to her. "Justine, are you looking forward to this game?"

"Oh absolutely," she nodded, smiling brightly. "I always feel such pride at these events, or really any event where I can support my school. I think it's important that teens these days have a united feeling of pride in their schools, especially when there's so much in this world that can make a teen feel so small and alone. No more questions, though, the game's about to start. Email me the rest of the interview, I'll give you the answers tomorrow."

"You're a doll!" the other girl smiled, scribbling on her notepad before turning away.

"Yeah," Justine sighed, shaking her head. "A real doll."

If one thing could be said about Justine Burgh, it was that she was always on top of things. All of her actions were calm, cool and calculated, and she always seemed to do everything perfectly without any sort of effort. A stunning girl with straight black hair and black eyes, she was Captain of the debate team, editor of the school paper, founder of the peer counseling project, soon to be class Valedictorian, and President of the Student Government. With all these, there was also the added bonus of being both the first female student, and the first Asian, to have any of those accomplishments at Medgerick. Keeping up and fending off the inevitable negative remarks was nearly impossible, but somehow she did it, with a smile on her face.

But Justine knew better. Behind all the awards and activities, the fake smiles and the graceful words, there was nothing anymore. She supposed being adopted in her youth had aided this feeling of detachment; no matter how much her brother and parents tried to make her feel like a part of the family, that lie was made obvious every time the family photographer would ask if the high-powered black family was sure they wanted the Asian girl in the shots, because she messed up the lighting. As unpleasant as that was, however, she knew there was more to it then that; but what, she wasn't sure. This charade of perfection had gone on for so long, she had forgotten what was really underneath it all. Many times, she wondered if there ever really was something underneath it all.

'Where is he?' she asked herself, looking around the crowd nervously as she took her seat, before glancing back at her watch. 'What if he doesn't show up at all? He knows I need them, he wouldn't forget, would he?'

After about ten minutes of searching and ignoring her friends' bewildered stares, she spotted who she was looking for. Excusing herself, she made her way down the stairs and out of the stands. "Carl?" she called out, looking around.

"Over here," a voice called, coming from underneath the stands.

Justine sighed as she walked toward the voice. "Do we always have to meet in dark, spider-filled places? Why can't we just meet in a bathroom or something?"

"Because you've got an image to keep, remember, Ms. President?" Carl shrugged, leaning against a post.

Narrowing her eyes, Justine crossed her arms and wondered for the thousandth time if she should be doing this. But, like all the times before, her need won out over her conscience, and she sighed. "How much?"

If there was one thing Carl Jones couldn't stand above all else (which was saying quite a bit, since his list of things he couldn't stand was rather long), it was a haughty customer. With short blonde hair and dark hazel eyes, Carl made enough money hooking up with lonely wives of yuppies and talking them out of their cash. He didn't _need_ this gig. At least, not like his customers needed it.

"Look, if you don't want this, then fine, take off. But I'm on a tight schedule, and I got other people to see here, so either buy it, or quit wasting my time," Carl snapped. "It's 300, and I'm giving you a hell of a deal, so either pay it now or I'm taking off."

"Here," Justine said, counting out the cash and shoving it toward Carl. "Now hand it over."

"Pleasure doing business with you," Carl smirked, his mood instantly shifting back to pleasant as soon as the cash crossed his palm. "You know how to get a hold of me when you need more. And Justine?"

She didn't glance at him, her gaze locked on the item he had currently clamped in his fist. His smirk widened. "If your parents smarten up and tighten the purse strings, I'm still up for taking other payment from you."

The look of disgust on Justine's face only caused Carl to chuckle. "Give me what's mine, and leave," she said carefully, and not just a bit coldly.

Tossing Justine a small plastic bag filled with a powdery white substance, Carl turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the stands until Justine could no longer make him out. Sighing once again, she put the bag in her purse, and strolled out from the under the stands, back toward her seat.

… …

"The crowd's into it tonight!" Chloe Cormac shouted over the roar of the cheering, smiling as she straightened her skirt and picked up her pom-poms.

"Yeah, we pretty much don't need to be here, huh?" Rose Stokes yelled back, pulling her pony tail tighter.

"Are you kidding? Half the guys in the crowd aren't cheering for the _game_," Elizabeth Boyd called, waving and winking to a boy in the stands before beginning to jump and cheer again.

All other side-line cheerleader-chatter was blocked out by the announcer's voice.

"The Medgerick Wolves lead the game, 7-0, with 2 minutes of the first quarter remaining. Limedale takes possession of the ball, Brown makes a long pass, and... Oh! Sullivan makes an interception! It's Medgerick's ball! Sullivan throws to Patterson, Patterson looks around, preparing to pass as well! Medgerick's theme seems to be passing this game, and despite its simplicity, it seems to be working!

"Maltic passes to Bowen, Bowen makes his way down the field, he's looking for a touchdown, folks... Ten yards... Five yards... Whoa! Where did he come from? Limedale's star defensive linebacker, 235 lbs. Senior Mark Tottler, tackles Bowen! Bowen doesn't seem to be moving..."

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Marty watched his surroundings silently, the shooting pain in his leg getting worse. The boy who had tackled him was asking if he was all right, and he could see his coach and teammates running toward him. They looked kind of funny, going so slow, but he couldn't really appreciate it. Not when his leg felt like it had been shattered into a dozen pieces.

"Marty! Marty!" Sarah screamed, the first to make it to him, somehow. Must have been those years of track she did.

She had forgotten to drop her pom-poms, he mused, as he watched her finally throw them aside and drop down, speaking so quickly to him that he couldn't quite make out what she was saying. He'd have to remember to make fun of her later. He'd do it now, but he couldn't quite seem to smile through the sobbing and tears that seemed to be overtaking his senses.

His coaches came, and the paramedics, though by then the pain had stopped. In fact, he didn't feel anything at all. He couldn't hear very well either, couldn't understand the questions the medics were asking. He did understand the words 'broken' and 'permanent damage', however. The last thought that came to his mind was, 'guess I won't make that after-game party', before he passed out.

Jack watched as Marty was placed in the ambulance and driven off the field, frowning. There went their best receiver and probably their chances at State. Damn. He stood up, brushing his kneepads off, and walked over to the sidelines.

"What are they saying, Coach?" he asked, as their head coach walked over to them.

The coach frowned, shaking his head. "It's ugly. The paramedics are guessing around four or five clean breaks all through his right leg. His foot got caught in a hole and he pivoted around before their guy tackled him. They think there might be permanent damage."

The team looked at each other, too startled to speak. Finally, Jack cleared his throat. "Guess we'll find out once he gets some tests done. In the meantime, we need to get out there and win this game, for Marty."

Everyone nodded except Dave, who still looked rather stunned. "I guess someone should let people know that the after-game party is off. We should go see him at the hospital once we're done."

"No," Jack snapped, shaking his head. "He'll be too drugged up to see anyone, and they'll probably still be running tests on him. Besides, after this, we all need a party. He wouldn't want us to cancel it. The party is on."

Jack was faced with looks of surprise and discontent at his decision. Dave's stare penetrated Jack's eyes, conveying his disagreement.

"It's what he would want," Jack assured them again. "Look," he sighed. "Marty's always been stubborn. He's never been one that needs all this attention, especially over an injury. He'll think we're babying him!"

Slowly, the other players began to agree. The last to do so was Dave, who shook his head, knowing he was in the minority. Jack watched as Dave walked over to the water cooler, before sighing, wishing he could walk over and pat him on the back, tell him he understood. He, Marty and Dave had been playing on the same teams since Little League, and the idea that that might have been Marty's last catch... He pushed the thought from his mind. Marty would be fine, everything would be fine, and they'd win State this year, as a team. But first, they had to make it through this game.

"This one's for Marty!" Jack bellowed, causing the rest of the time to cry out with similar lines. Smirking, Jack nodded to his coach and made his way back out onto the field.

… …

"Ugh, look at this one. They call this one talent?"

Gabrielle sighed, watching as her friends walked through the museum, poking fun at every piece that showed even a hint of happiness or cheerfulness. Again, why had she thought this would be fun? Going to the dentist was more fun than this, in her opinion.

"What do you think, Gab?" Kevin asked, sliding his arm around her and pointing to a particularly dark and gloomy canvas. "I think the girl is showing how American teenagers are becoming more and more self-centered, caught up in their own lies and deceit and selfishness. The blackness around her represents her aura of hatred."

"I think you're on the right track," Jo said, cutting in before Gabrielle had a chance to speak. "But I think it's showing how popular she is, and that black void around her is her popularity, sucking everyone around her into it."

"I agree," Michael nodded, again interrupting Gabrielle. "But I think it's less of a void, and more of how black and meaningless her pathetic life is."

"She must be a cheerleader," Rachel called out, causing the rest of the group (save Gabrielle) to burst out laughing. "I mean, look at how she glares at everyone. Like the world is hers to rule and we're all just here to be despised by her. Classic cheerleader."

"Guys, come quick! There's a painting in the next room that you have to see, it's got teddy bears on it!" Amie called, peeking in from the other room.

The other three moved toward it, leaving Kevin and Gabrielle alone. "You coming?" Kevin asked, disentangling himself from her and heading for the other room.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," she nodded, waving him off.

She stood in front of the picture for a few moments, trying to see what her friends had seen, before she felt a presence behind her. Whirling around, she came face to face with a boy she recognized from school, a drama nerd. A cute drama nerd, however, she thought to herself, taking in his short black hair and deep chestnut eyes, before frowning at him. "What do you want?"

"Relax, I was just looking at the painting as well. Ironic that I should do that in such a place, right?" he said, allowing the tiniest smirk to play across his lips. "That bunch of scholarly critics your friends?"

"Yes," Gabrielle nodded, crossing her arms. "Do you have a problem with them?"

"Not at all! No need to get defensive. I recognize you, you're from Medgerick, right?" he asked.

"Gabrielle Adler," she nodded, sticking out her hand slowly. "Who are you?"

"Dominic Adelio," he replied, leaning down to kiss her hand suavely. "No wonder I recognized you, you must have been behind me in line for everything since junior high!"

"Guess so," she said, smiling a little as she yanked her hand away.

They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own private thoughts. "Your friends were way off about the painting," he said at last.

"How would you know?" she asked, glancing from him to the painting, and then back again.

"My aunt painted this," he shrugged, causing her to blush slightly with embarrassment. He didn't seem to notice. "The girl isn't glaring, she's at that moment right before one starts to cry, at the breaking point? And the blackness around her, that's not a void, it's the sky."

"She's... hiding. Isn't she?" Gabrielle asked, staring at the painting.

Dominic smiled. "Yeah. She's hiding behind the sky. Hence the title, 'Hiding Behind the Sky', which your friends apparently missed. I could go into the deeper details of the piece, but somehow, I think you already understand, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He was starting to creep her out, and running with the crowd she did, that was a very bad thing.

"Nothing. Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, so, you can tell it's the sky by the blue tinge and light border. It's supposed to represent her sky turning black, the longer she hid behind it. Make sure to tell your art critic posse that, when you get the chance."

"Thanks. I will," Gabrielle nodded, and moved toward the next room.

"Oh, Gabrielle, I..." Dominic began.

"Hey, what's taking you so long?" Kevin called, appearing by the door to the room. "We're almost finished in here!"

"Sorry," Gabrielle yelled back, before turning to Dominic. "Sorry, I've got to go. Thanks for the lesson."

"Yeah, any time," Dominic replied, before watching her rush over to her boyfriend and disappear into the room. Mentally kicking himself at his missed chance, he sighed. 'Damn. I have to tell her soon. The longer I wait, the worse it'll be.'

_Flashback_

'_Why am I always late?' Dominic groaned to himself, racing down the hallway. The once-in-a-lifetime audition at a local playhouse that had seemed to just fall into his lap a few mornings ago was now slipping away from him. He hadn't meant to spend so long... "talking" with Ashleigh in the drama room, but as always, he had lost track of time and now he had but a few minutes to get across town._

_The front doors were just within his grasp, when... BAM! Something collided with his foot, sending him sprawling across the hallway. After a few moments of dazed shock, he looked around the empty hallway, trying to find the cause of his accident. Finally, he saw it._

_A small journal, no larger than his hand but thick as his fist, lay strewn against the tile. Picking himself up, he walked over to it and picked it up, looking around for anyone who might have dropped it._

'_Gabrielle Adler' was the name inscribed into the cover, the little gold lettering sparkling against the afternoon sun. He thought for a moment, before smiling with recognition. That girl that played the drums so well, she was the only Gabrielle he knew. This must belong to her._

_But there was still the audition, and no way to track her down, even if he wanted to. Resolving to find her and give it back to her tomorrow morning, he tightened his grip on the journal and made for his car. Besides, between now and then, there would be a little time to do some... extracurricular reading, maybe. Only just a few peeks, though, of course._

_End Flashback_

'First thing in the morning' had turned into the Pep Rally, however, which had turned into Monday. And 'just a few peeks' had turned into an all-night read-a-thon, allowing her deepest thoughts and feelings to wash over him for hours on end. It wasn't like he had meant to; he understood her need for privacy. Well, after all he'd read, he _really_ understood it, as well as nearly everything else about her. But it was like a drug, her writings, from the first sentence to the last letter.

He sighed, feeling rather guilty now. Even if he did return it to her, it would be impossible to explain how much her words meant, how they made him feel, without telling her that he had read her most sacred thoughts without permission. But if he gave it back to her without saying anything, and she never spoke to him again, wouldn't that be just as bad?

This, he mused, was why he was an actor. Life in a storybook was so much easier than this.

… …

**Coming Up In Chapter Six: **The after-game party is getting in swing, and everyone's doing their best to forget their wounded teammate and friend and just have a good time. However, when an uninvited clique shows up, get ready for tempers to flare, and fists to fly! Plus, a longtime relationship ends in the midst of it all! Don't miss it!


	8. Breaking Up is Hard to Do?

**((Hey guys!! I'm SO sorry for the wait! While I was overseas, I had little to no computer access, so I had to wait until I got home last week before I could work on this again! No fear, though - I'm back in the good USA, with solid computer access, now. Don't forget to leave FB and let me know someone is still reading this!))**

**.**

* * *

.

"Turn it off NOW and put my radio station back on, or else you're out of the bloody car, you twit!"

After that statement, James slammed on the brakes of his '67 Viper (black, of course), turning to glare at the girl in the back seat to emphasize his point.

"You have like, major issues, do you know that?" Elizabeth Boyd snapped, untangling herself from her date, who gave a groan at the interruption from their not-so-G-rated make-out session. "Look, you need to like, have a little bit of culture if you're going to be dating my Liz. So shut up, and let the class like, flow over you. And put a move on it, we're going to be late!"

"Hilary Duff is _not_ class, you bow-headed bimbo. And if that boy-toy gets drool on my leather..." James began, but was cut off by Elizabeth's high-pitched shout of protest.

"Liz, tell your boyfriend to like, ease off the stick-in-the-ass pills and like, enjoy the moment. We…"

Both she and James stilled, however, when the previously silent Liz turned from the passenger window to glower at both of them. "How about we all just stop talking, turn off the stereo, and be quiet if we can't get along? I'm not in the mood to play babysitter."

Grunting, she shook her head and looked back out the window, leaving a rather stunned best friend and boyfriend. Elizabeth shot James a glare, as if to say 'look what you did!' but took out her CD and put his heavy rock music back on the speakers. James made no move to comment, merely slid an arm around Liz after he started back down the road, giving Elizabeth a perfect view of his erect middle finger, to which she sputtered but finally just crossed her arms and pouted against the seat.

"Something wrong, Love?" James asked, about twenty miles down the road, after Elizabeth and her nameless male companion had gone back to their previous means of entertainment. "Seem to have a bit of a bog on."

"I think having this party is stupid," Liz replied, not turning from the window. "It should have been cancelled. Marty might be _paralyzed_. How can we all just act like nothing's wrong?"

"Ask your girlfriend, back there," James shrugged, earning a glare from Liz. He returned it with a dashing smile, and leaned over to kiss her cheek quickly before slowing the car as they neared the main gates of the wealthy housing development. "Come on, lighten up, Love. I'm only going to this blasted party because of you; I demand that you have a good time. I mean it, or else I'm turning around and we're going to kick these buggers out and go shag in a parking lot. At least we could salvage a bit of the night, that way."

At that, she cracked a very slight smile, much to his relief. "I just don't feel right about being here…"

"We'll only stay a bit then, alright? Then I'll take you to the hospital, and you can find out how the bloke is doing," James offered, earning a true smile and a nod from Liz.

Visibly relieved at her acceptance of this proposal, he put on a rather cheerful (and only slightly sarcastic) smile as he moved to turn down the radio and pull up to the security guard's terminal.

"James O'Leary, Elizabeth Hale, Elizabeth Boyd, and… well, I don't know the other one's name, but I'd say it's pretty obvious they're a unit for the evening. Or at least until the drugs wear off." As the surprised security guard looked up from the list, James waved his hand dismissively. "Kidding, of course."

"Ms. Hale, Ms. Boyd, and her plus one are fine, but I'm not finding a James O'Leary on here," the guard said, flipping through the list again.

"Check under Dickwad," Elizabeth piped up from the back seat, looking smug when both James and Liz turned to give her a surprised look.

The guard raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Oh, sure, here you are. Kids these days and their nicknames… Go on through, and remember to be out by 2 AM."

"Have I mentioned today how much I love your friends, Darling?" James asked, rather tight-jawed as he pulled into the development. "It's really their charming wit that endears me to them most."

"You liked that? Dave let me put together some of the list," Elizabeth called, though she quieted after she received an intense glare from James.

"You're not exactly Mr. Cheerful tonight, either," Liz said, finally opting to interject.

James twitched slightly, his usual tell-tale sign of guilt. "I've got some things on my mind. Listen, we probably need to talk; I've got some…"

"HELLO, personal issues not around me, remember? That's the rule, Dick. Best friends are not to be present when there's like, stuff to talk about, okay?" Elizabeth was now fully untangled from her date, and was giving James a rather belligerent look as she straightened out her clothes.

"Why has no one smothered you in your sleep yet?" he demanded.

Liz rolled her eyes, pulling herself out of the car. "Come on, let's just go to the party. Everything else can wait."

The party was in full swing as they walked in the front door, Jim immediately having to pull Liz out of the way of a flying bottle, which then shattered against the wall behind them. "Now, this is my kind of scene!" James laughed, his mood brightening instantly and looking downright mirthful as he pulled Liz to what appeared to be the unofficial dance floor.

"Of course it is – it's total chaos!" Elizabeth shouted from behind them, latching onto her date before explaining, "Places like this remind him of home. He's like, you know, from Hell. Whatever. Come on, I want to get a better look at this place!"

And off she dashed, date in tow, who was currently content in the knowledge that a 'better look' usually included an intense look at the various bedrooms. Liz looked around for her friend, then shook her head as James twirled her around again, all too aware of where Elizabeth had probably gotten off too. "I'm going to go say hello to Dave," she said, prying James's arms off of her.

James protested, giving off a sound that could have easily been considered a growl. "I'm sure that… _bloke_, is tied up right now, can't it wait? Until we leave, perhaps?"

"Jim! I'll be back in just a minute." Liz waved off the rest of his objections, well aware of the lack of love between her boyfriend and friend.

As James slunk off to go get a drink, Liz pushed through the crowd, pausing every few moments to greet a friend or stumble over an overly enthusiastic couple. Finally spotting him, she came to a halt, smiling. "Great party, Dave!" she managed to shout over the booming music, giving both he and Trish, whom he was currently wrapped around, a cheerful hug.

"Thanks! Trish did it, though… you _know_ I didn't plan all this out," Dave replied, sending a proud smile down towards his girlfriend, who in turn laughed and blushed slightly.

"He just doesn't want to admit that he could have a career in party planning," Trish replied, before glancing around. "Is Jim here? And Elizabeth? It's getting hard to tell… I think half the school showed up!"

"Of course they did, who would be stupid enough miss this?" Came Jack's unmistakable voice as he sidled up next to them, reaching behind them to grab another beer.

"Elizabeth is here… somewhere, you know how that is. Jim went to go get drinks, I think. They're both glad to be here," Liz stated, before glancing at Trish. "Hey, you look great! I can't believe Trey let you out of the house like that."

"I don't know about that, but thanks! I always feel so young up next to all you senior girls," she replied, earning an exchanged look and simultaneous eye rolls from Liz and Dave.

Jack was the one who opted to state the obvious, however, moving to fully enter their conversation as he slung an arm across Trish's shoulder. "Young nothing. You're one of the best looking girls at that school, and if you weren't tied down with this one right here, I'd…"

"You'd have Rose help you find a suitable companion for her, right?" Liz quipped, earning her a slightly cocky smirk from Jack, who nodded.

"Of course." Then, to get back in the good graces of his three companions, he added, "Hey, Rose and I were going to swing by the hospital and check on Marty tomorrow night. He'll want to know how badly we tromped Limedale. You guys want me to pick you up on the way? I've got the Hummer, so you should all fit pretty easy."

"That would be really nice, Jack," Trish said, earning a flashy grin from him, and a sigh of exasperation from Dave, who was really getting tired of Jack's constant flirting with Trish.

"Alright, then. I'll give you all a call before we head out... a couple others will probably come, too. Anyway, I'm just, going to, work the room and all," he said, before removing himself from Trish and taking off, presumably to find his wayward girlfriend.

At the looks on the faces of her two companions as Jack departed, Trish cleared her throat and gave them a slightly disappointed look. "I think it just got a little chilly in here."

"Jack can really be a jerk, sometimes, that's all," Liz said, shrugging.

"To say the least," Dave added, then held up his hands at the look Trish gave him. "What? The guy gets two beers in him and I swear, I think he's about to reach right over and grope you."

"Jack's always like that, and you're still his friends. You're both just mad that he's not acting as worried about Marty as you are." Leave it to Trish to nail things right on the head. "You know he's just as upset as you both, probably more. I was talking to Rose a few minutes ago, and she said he didn't say anything the whole car ride up here. Just let him try and have a good time, okay? And make sure you both do, too. You all need it."

When her two companions opted to simply stand and look guilty in the wake of that carefully-constructed admonishment, she smiled, pointing to the crowd. "Go dance! I'll meet you guys out there, I just want to go check and see how many more people we've got coming."

Watching as the petite girl weaved her way through the crowd, Liz smirked as she looked back at Dave. "She's a good hostess. She'll make a good wife, too, someday; she's already got the guilt-thing down."

"Yeah, I'm a lucky guy." However, as their eyes caught each others, the compliments toward Trish seemed to be forgotten entirely. Dave supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that his hand reached out almost of its own accord, resting against Liz's cheek. He'd thought of touching her for a long time. "Are you okay?"

Neither one of them broke eye contact, and Liz didn't move away from him, only opting to nod slightly. "I feel like… I don't know. Like everyone just…"

"Doesn't care? I know. Especially when you know _he'd_ be at the hospital waiting to hear results if this had happened to anyone in here," Dave agreed, and took a step closer to her. He could almost hear the warning bells go off in his head, but he ignored them. After all, with the lights dark and music slow, it was easy to just fall into a haze, letting all rational thoughts sort of drift away in favor of focusing entirely on the girl in front of him.

Liz looked near-tears, now. "Why are you always the only other person who gets it?" However, then she seemed to change slightly, and broke the evident tension between the two.

By kissing him.

They pulled apart almost immediately, and stared at each other in shock. The damage, though, was already done. Quite a few people around them were staring at them, including two, very unfriendly faces. One cleared his throat, and they both turned in time to see James, leaning against the wall and looking deadpan despite holding his beer in a death-grip. "What? Don't let me interrupt."

"Really. Ignore him. Please, continue." This came from Trey, who was at the moment a vision of fury, looking as if he might just kill them both.

Dave looked at Liz, and found her mouthing the words that precisely covered how he was feeling. 'Oh, damn.'

.

* * *

.

"Are you guys sure about this?"

Tina Winters pondered, for the umpteenth time, if she ought to be here. Squeezed in the back seat of a known delinquent's Chevy, between Cydney McDevitt and Oscar Von Stefan, two people she normally would have avoided like the plague, this seemed like an all around bad idea. She'd thought to voice that more than once, but each time, she'd look back to see Elise and Mark, the only friendly faces, making out, with Morris Von Stefan staring out his window, pressed as far from the couple as possible. Or she might be lucky enough to catch a glare in the rear view mirror from Gabe Roades, who seemed to have a talent for being able to glower and drive at the same time. As they pulled up to the mansion, nearly hitting several drunken cheerleaders before getting a suitable parking place, she sighed and waited while the rest piled out, having completely ignored her question.

It had all started out so simply…

"… _By the time I grab my books and I give myself a look, I'm at the corner just in time to see the bus fly by…" Tina sang along with the television, looking like the absolute epitome of loneliness in her bathroom and slippers, oreos in one hand and chocolate syrup in the other._

_The doorbell rang, and she was up in a flash, nearly spilling her precious oreos as she did a graceful leap over to the front door. "Hell… oh. It's you. Hey."_

_Elise laughed, simply shaking her head at the greeting and pushing her way inside. "Love you too, darling. Is Aaron here?"_

"_No… I haven't heard from him. I'm sure he's on his way." Tina sighed, well aware that neither of them believed that. "I can't believe he blew me off."_

"_He probably got blind-sided, you know how that goes. He'll apologize, you'll forgive him, so on. It always ends up that way with you two," Elise offered supportively, before wincing as a horn blared from out in the driveway. "We could egg his car, if you wanted."_

"_No thanks… not while I'm sober. Tina glanced at the door, surprised. Mark never honked at Elise… Mark would be more likely to sit in the driveway patiently all night. "Is Mark here?" _

"_Yeah…" Elise said vaguely, before looking her up and down. "I thought Aaron might bail, so I'm plan B. But you don't exactly look ready for a party."_

"_Who's having a party?" Tina felt more and more out of the loop every moment._

_Elise rolled her eyes. "The rest of the world, while you're sitting on the couch watching the best times of your life just flitter away. Go get dressed; we're going to Dave Maltic's party. And you just thought you wouldn't see Aaron tonight!"_

"_We weren't invited to Dave Maltic's party," Tina pointed out, as she was pushed up to her room. Despite beginning to change, she continued to protest. "And who's we?"_

"_You'll see. Come on, come on! Good night, you move slow when you're moping," Elise chastised, laughing as Tina flipped her off and nearly tripped over her pants while doing so._

_Grabbing a shirt, she barely had time to button it before Elise was pulling her back out the door. "You didn't answer me. We weren't invited to Dave Maltic's party, how are we going to get in? He lives up in that huge gated community out in the hills, right?"_

"_Some of the football team from another school was invited, but they… got detained. So, we're using their names," Elise explained, grabbing Tina's coat off the rack on their way out the front door._

"_Who is… oh, no. El, no. Are you kidding?" Tina looked with wide eyes at the big black Chevy Tahoe sitting in her driveway, and the faces inside it._

"_They're not that bad," Elise said, shrugging._

_Tina turned her look of shock onto her friend. "Gabe Roades just got out of jail for a major assault! And his girlfriend is supposed to be crazier than he is! El, I'm not going to be party to a murder or whatever they've got planned for tonight. I absolutely refuse."_

"_Look, Andy and Skyler are catching a ride with Adriana, you know Dom's babysitting, and everyone else already had plans. Besides, they're… okay," Elise managed, before wincing under Tina's accusatory stare. "We'll ditch them at the party, and get a ride home with Aaron or Adriana if something goes wrong. Come on, you're young, you're free; live a little!"_

"_I don't appreciate this type of peer pressure," Tina warned, before sighing as she glanced back toward the house and thought of her un-eaten Oreos and the crazy antics of Zach Morris and the gang. Did she really want to miss that for some stupid party she wasn't even invited to? … Wow, she _was_ getting old. "Fine, I'll go because you'll need a designated driver, but I'm not getting out of the car. You guys can stumble your way back to it when you're ready to leave."_

_Elise laughed and pushed her forward, and she walked over (with only a little reluctance), pulling herself into the car. "Um, hi."_

_Dressed in all black, no different from their usual, Cydney turned to look at her, giving her a look of total disdain. "Whatever," Cydney snapped, before rolling her eyes and turning back to the front._

"_Won't this be fun?" Elise said, laughing nervously as she crawled into the back, where Mark sat, apparently waiting for her._

_Tina glanced at them and rolled her eyes. "Like Christmas freaking Morning. Like I said, I'm not getting out of the car."_

"Isn't this great?" Elise shouted, barely managing to get her voice to carry over the blaring music.

Tina rolled her eyes as she pushed yet another drunken jock with wandering hands from her. "I don't know why we're still friends! I said I wasn't getting out of the car! I… what?"

The interruption, all six-foot, two hundred pounds of it, put his hands on Tina's shoulders, frowning. She recognized him as some guy who did something on the football team; all she knew about him was that his ego was about equal to his size. "You lost, girly? I'm pretty sure there weren't any freaks invited!"

Before she could get out one of the many witty responses that that statement had left an opening for, Mark had managed to untangle himself from Elise long enough to shove the other boy off of her. "Get lost, she's not causing any trouble."

"What if I don't? You going to cast some spell on me, witch boy?" the jock demanded, seemingly aware of the growing interest in this altercation from the surrounding peers.

Mark raised an eyebrow, looking downright bewildered at what the boy was referring to. The jock, however, seemed even less pleased by this response, and shoved Mark hard enough to knock him off his feet. "What, you mute, now? You retarded? Speak up, retard!"

The guy never saw the right-hook coming, and probably wouldn't have been certain it had happened at all if not from the pain in his nose and his sudden contact with an unlucky party-goer and then the wall. Gabe Roades stood in the middle of the now-empty floor space and un-flexed his fist, glancing at it with a look of mild disinterest. "I don't really like that word. And your face was really bugging the hell out of me."

The jock got up and looked like he might charge at Gabe, but seemed to give it a second thought when he noticed the Von Stefan brothers looming behind him. He spat what sounded like a few drunken curse words at them, before slinking away.

Tina breathed a sigh of relief, but it was premature; that unlucky party-goer? Jessa Lynch. And with light brown soda all down the front of what Tina assumed to be a formerly white dress, she looked _pissed_. No one around them seemed to move as she marched right up to Gabe, pointed to her dress, and slapped him right across the face. "Jerk! Look what you did, you big thug! Apologize right now, or I'll make you pay for this dress, and it costs a fortune!"

Gabe looked stunned, as did everyone else; he'd lurked around Medgerick, causing trouble with the Von Stefan's (when not in jail or juvy) long enough for most people to know exactly who he was. And here was a girl half his size, who he could more than likely pick up and snap in half with minimal effort, knocking him one? The audience, which was now a good portion of the people in the room, looked split between thrilled at the spectacle, and nervous that they might be about to witness a homicide.

The surprise didn't lessen when Gabe, never taking his eyes off the irate girl, shrugged. "Sorry."

"Did you just hit my boyfriend? You skank!" Cydney had apparently decided that that moment was a good time to look up from her vodka. No one got a chance to move in before Cydney had tackled Jessa, and the two began rolling around on the floor in classic girl-fight style, though Jessa appeared to be more interested in keeping Cydney's claw-like fingernails away from her eyes than fighting.

Tina groaned, stepping back (there was no way she was going to break that one up; Cydney McDevitt was a lunatic, and Jessa had never been nice to her). Did she miss the memo? Was this really a WWE smack-down, disguising itself as a high school party? Then again, this was a primarily-Medgerick High party; fights were pretty much mandatory. She just wasn't used to inadvertently causing them.

"Alright loves, that's enough. The adults are trying to have a chat in the back, and you two crazy bints are making that a smidge difficult." It was James O'Leary… the classic bad-boy, complete with the cheerleader girlfriend and everything. Very _Grease_. If they started singing, she didn't care who was getting beat up, she was out of there.

James picked up the flailing Cydney with little effort, and set her down on her feet. "Oh, bloody hell, I knew I should have paid more attention when that old wanker judge talked about karma… I'm pretty sure you weren't on the invite list."

"Well, if it isn't my old friend. How are things, Jim? You'll be happy to know it was a false alarm," Cydney said, instantly sounding almost sweet, and completely lacking the fierceness of a moment ago, now replaced with a sly sort of satisfaction.

"What was a false alarm?" The cheerleader girlfriend, Liz, pushed her way through the crowd, puffy-eyed and looking disheveled, as if she'd been crying, with Dave Maltic right behind her. Oh great. They were so kicked out.

"That pregnancy scare I had a couple weeks ago – are you Liz? Jim told me all about you… before and after he introduced me to his bed… and his couch… and his backseat." Ouch. Liz looked floored (yet another surprise of the night), and Cydney looked smug, latching onto Gabe (who also looked a bit floored). "He was right; you _are_ cute. Sort of like a puppy."

Jim looked downright guilty, and Liz looked like she had just been kicked repeatedly in the stomach. The only one who seemed to still be able to function was Dave Maltic, who shoved his way to the front. "You guys get the hell out, before I call the cops. I don't know how you got in here, but…"

"Give it a rest, soldier boy. This isn't Fort Knox," Jim managed, earning himself a glare from Dave.

"You get out, too. You're not welcome here," Dave snapped. He looked haggard; then again, he had just played a football game a few hours earlier, Tina supposed. If this wasn't so uncomfortable, this might have been fun; like having ring-side seats.

Jim glanced at Liz. "Fine. Love, let's go."

"I knew you cheated on me. I just, knew. I just couldn't figure out who it was with," Liz said quietly, causing Jim to look uncertain. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He looked around the room nervously, seeming to finally realize that much of the party had come to a halt to watch the events at hand. "Look, I'm sorry. But I can explain, just, let's go somewhere, and I'll explain. We'll call it even, okay?"

"Even?" Liz flared up at that. "Screw that! We're through, Jim! How's that for even? Get out of here!"

He did just that, looking a bit like a dog with its tail between its legs as he moved through the crowd and out the door. Dave looked at Cydney, who held up her hands. "Relax, we're taking off, too. This party blows, anyway. If I wanted to see a soap opera, I would've just stayed home. You guys are kind of pathetic."

Mark and Elise apparently took that as their cue and headed for the door, as did Skyler, Andy and Adriana, who Tina hadn't even seen up until that point. Cydney came up behind them, but paused when she got to the door and glanced across the room. "Hey, Jack! Haven't seen you in awhile… don't be such a stranger, come by sometime. I miss our long… talks, what's it been, a month?"

Jack appeared as if he wanted to sink into the floor (the first time Jack Sullivan ever shrank away from the spotlight), and Rose Stokes, who was on his arm, turned bright pink and looked at him. Cydney just laughed. Tina wondered briefly if this girl was an ordinary 'loose woman', or if she was a sociopath, on top of it.

However, Cydney seemed to lose a bit of her cockiness when she turned to see Gabe behind her, looking none too happy (probably at the realization that his girlfriend was kind of a whore, was Tina's guess). She simply flipped off the room and headed out, Gabe and the Von Stefan's behind her.

Tina slipped out as the crowd got a bit tighter and more yelling started; whatever was going on, that wasn't her fault. She made it out the drive, and halfway to the car, when someone grabbed her arm. "Tina!"

She whirled around, coming face to face with Aaron, who looked unhappy, to put it lightly. "What are you doing? Why did you bring them here?"

Did he really just… he did! Granted, later that night when she was no longer fearing for her life and highly irritable, she'd probably surmise that one of Chloe's stupid friends had yelled at him and gotten him all riled up. But, that was definitely not now. "Bring them? Are you… you left me! Remember, Saved by the Bell, marathon, tonight, ring any bells? They came by and dragged me to this stupid party after you left me alone to sit on my couch by myself all night! I didn't bring them here, and it's your fault I'm here, at all!"

Aaron looked taken aback. "Tina… I'm sorry, I totally forgot. Chloe asked me to go to this and…" However, when she stayed looking irritated, he turned a bit indignant. "I'm sorry, but that still doesn't give you the right to let some psychos come in and bust up a party you all weren't even invited to."

"Does it look like I dragged them to it? I don't even know them, we just happened to come in the same damn car! Why are you getting mad at me?" she demanded.

"Because every where you go, trouble seems to follow, and your new friends just pretty much killed the party, and those are my friends in there!" he spat out.

And there it was. He was getting an earful from everyone in the party. No real surprise; he never did well under stress, and he hated fighting. But Tina was not in the mood for sympathy. "Listen, to me. I had nothing to do with them coming, and as for your friends… that's not really my problem, is it?"

"It is your problem! We're supposed to be friends, and here you are, causing all kinds of problems with my friends, knowing they're going to come after me, for it!" She could tell he knew he was in the wrong, and at this point just needed a place to vent, but she was not in the mood for sympathy.

"Friends? You just blew me off, just like you always do! You know, I can't take anymore fighting tonight, just being in there for that filled my quota for the month." She sighed, and shook her head. "But I just don't think I can do this anymore. I never choose Dom over you, and we've been together longer than you and Chloe have. It's hard enough just trying to be your friend with how much your friends hate me and how much mine hate you… I don't need a best friend who only talks to me through a window when it's convenient for him."

Aaron was apparently at a loss for words, and Tina shook her head, heading for the car. If there was one thing she didn't joke around about, it was their friendship; she had never called off their friendship before, and they'd had some really big fights. She had just, had enough.

This had been a really bad idea.

.

* * *

.

Dave collapsed onto the loveseat by the front door, shaking his head as the music became louder and people began to dance again. Sure, no need to let a little thing like two fights slow them down… or was it three, or four fights? He couldn't count. One minute, he was trying to calm Trey down enough so that the guy didn't reach out and cut his throat (which, given his bad vision at the moment, was a definite possibility), and console Liz, who'd very soon after their kiss burst out into tears, all the while avoiding eye contact with Jim, and the next minute he was watching party crashers tear about the tentative cheerfulness that had been his party's mood. Liz had taken off a little after Jim; he'd offered to let her stay at the house, or take her home himself, but she'd declined. In fact, it had seemed like she couldn't get far enough away from him, fast enough.

He wasn't quite sure what he had been thinking. Sure, he liked Liz, and probably more than he should have. But he liked Trish, too; granted, he was a red-blooded teenage male, so a lot of the time he liked just about anything in a skirt, but Liz and Trish both held equal shares of his romantic interest. Besides, with all the time he spent with her, he was closer to Trish; and now, look what he'd done to her. By Monday, it would be all over Medgerick. He was some kind of scumbag.

At least he wasn't as bad as Jim.

"Hey."

Soft voice, kind undertones… yep, definitely the last person he wanted to see right now. He couldn't make himself look up at her. "Hey, Trish."

"Trey wants to get going. He's actually at the door… fuming… I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Things got pretty crazy there, for a bit," Trish said, sounding remarkably calm.

Dave finally got the nerve to look up and, upon finding her smiling at him, frowned and stood up. "Can I talk to you upstairs? I only need five minutes… you can tell him I promise, it'll just be five minutes. I at least owe you an apology."

Her smile wavered, but she nodded. "Of course." He watched as she walked over to Trey, the very picture of poise as her older brother made emphatic hand gestures and yelled things that he couldn't quite make out. Finally she came back over to him, and nodded towards the stairs. "Five minutes is fine. Let's go."

The stony silence that followed until they made it to his room was worse than her yelling at him, he was sure. Shutting his door, he frowned again when she made her way over and sat down on his bed, looking thoughtful. "So… Liz."

"It just happened. I'm really sorry, you know I'd never-" he began, but stopped short when she held up a hand.

She put her hand down after a moment and sighed. "I should've known there was something there. All those rumors, and such."

"You're my girlfriend. You're the girl I want to be with," Dave managed, moving to sit beside her. "It was just a mistake. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. Dave, relax, okay? I know you didn't do it on purpose," Trish said, taking his hand and smiling at him. "I wish you hadn't done it in front of all of our friends… and my brother… but it's okay. Besides, we both know this whole relationship was sort of a set up."

Yeah, maybe on her side. Dave remembered the day he first saw her, the beginning of Sophomore year, like it was yesterday. She'd gotten lost in the hallways of the big school, like a typical freshman, and he'd pointed her to her class and even walked her there. It took those four minutes for him to fall pretty hard for her; not like it was hard, with as sweet and as fun as she was. It had taken a month for him to convince her brother that he was good enough for his little sister; he still hadn't quite managed that, but Trey had been feeling charitable, he guessed. And they had been a couple ever since… it was so easy. He felt more at ease with her than he did with anyone else, and she was a great friend. He was comfortable, with her…

"Are you listening?" She sighed when she received a blank stare. "Look. Dave, you're one of my best friends. But I think that's all we're supposed to be. Love should be exciting, you know? You should feel… electricity. You should feel… something."

"I do feel something, a _lot_," Dave replied, causing her to laugh and slap him on the arm.

"You feel that same something when you see Lucy Lawless on television," she countered, grinning at him. "Really. This is your last year here; I want you to find someone to make you happy, get you angry, and make you excited. That's not me. We'll still be friends though, I promise! I'll still plan your parties, help you with your English essays, and go to Homecoming with you; no way I can drum up a date in a month. Trey's got too many of the guys terrified, and you do, too."

"I gotta tell you, Trish, this is the nicest break up I've ever had," Dave said, beginning to feel a little better. "But, I'm just not sure I'm willing to let you go. You do make me happy, and I'm not sure it's going to be okay with me to see you walking down the hall with some other guy carrying your books."

"You're sweet. But I wasn't sure, either, until I saw you kiss her. Dave, I didn't feel anything; a little embarrassed, but not that… sucker-punch, that I always expected. If splitting doesn't feel right, then, well, we'll cross that bridge when it comes, okay?" she offered.

However, her collected smile disappeared when Dave wrapped her up in something almost akin to a bear hug, and kissed her for a long moment. Pulling away, and taking a deep breath, he gave her a lopsided smile. "Anything?"

"Sorry," she said, laughing and shaking her head, before pushing him slightly and standing up. "Nerd. Hey, what's that noise?"

Moving over to the window, she gasped. "Dave, those guys didn't leave! They're wrecking your patio furniture!"

Coming up behind her quickly, Dave looked out, and rolled his eyes when he saw the Von Stefan's and Gabe Roades, breaking his patio equipment and tossing various things into the pool, amidst shrieking of those at the party who had ventured outside. "Great."

"Are you going to do something? Do you want me to go get Trey?" she questioned, then turned to give him a questioning look when he chuckled.

"No, I always hated that stuff anyway. Step-mother picked it out – the second one, you remember, the one that was barely 20? She didn't even last long enough to see it shipped here. Dad won't care," he said, shrugging. "So… I'm getting a new car for my birthday, want to help me pick it out? I've got the catalogs over there. I'm thinking; SUV."

"I'm thinking; pretend that you care a little bit about the environment. You don't need an SUV. How about a sports car?" she questioned, moving to grab the catalogs and sprawl out on his bed, kicking off her shoes.

He laughed, sitting down beside her and looking over her shoulder. "I might be persuaded. Didn't Trey say five minutes?"

"He needs some time to cool down, it'll do him good," she replied dismissively, before pointing to a particularly fancy car. "How about this one?"

If this was how they were going to be, broken up, he might be able to deal. Same thing, just no kissing… well, that sucked, but he could live. Maybe he'd be happier, this way, anyway; he knew she would be.

Who said breaking up had to be hard?

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**Coming Up in Chapter 7:** Marty's coping in the hospital okay; better, now that he has a very unexpected roommate. Who is it, and what do they have that Marty wants? Plus - Dee is having to cope as well; with the reality that being a snitch might have repercussions he never expected. Don't miss it!


	9. Helping Hands

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((Hey guys! So, long overdue, here's the next chapter! I have an overabundance of time this summer, so I expect to pick this up for the summer. I'm also working on other stories, so stay tuned for those! As always, please R & R - I don't know if anyone is still reading this, but I hope so!**))**

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Marty tossed down the controller in disgust, sighing as it clanged loudly against the pristine tile flooring of the hospital room. "You win again."

"You're getting better," his companion said cheerfully, pulling the string above his own bed to signal a nurse. "How about two out of three?"

"I'm pretty tired…" He groaned as the other boy gave him wide, sad eyes. "Sure, sure, two out of three. Then we're done with this little 'Sonic the retarded porcupine', or whatever this is. We'll play Madden 2009 for a couple hours, and then we'll see how much you still want to play."

"He's a hedge hog," his 'roommate' corrected (or cellmate, as Marty liked to call it when one of the nurses gave him a hard time). "And I'll kill you in Madden, too. Face it, I'm the champ."

Marty rolled his eyes, but glanced over at the boy and had to laugh as he looked eagerly at the screen, setting up the next game. At twelve years old, Tyler Audley was as typical an all-American, fun-loving boy as they came; just like Marty had been at that age. After his surgery, he'd been placed in a room with the boy, and though at first sharing a hospital room with some other damaged person had seemed like it would be awful, it was probably all that was keeping him from going insane.

Despite his heavily-medicated first couple of days, he'd become coherent sooner than the doctors had planned, and it was Tyler who kept him from getting depressed while the doctors scrambled about, trying to determine whether or not Marty would ever be able to walk without help again. It was something else, to wake up with no memory of anything but running towards those bright field lights with a football in your hand, and being told that your leg may be permanently damaged and your dreams of College football may never be realized. That your dreams of walking again may never be realized.

Tyler was worse off than him, though; he'd felt guilty for feeling bad for himself at all, when he first heard the story. A wheel on the boy's skateboard had broken off, sending him rolling… right into a speeding car. His prosthetic leg was supposed to be on its way to replace what had previously been his healthy, strong left leg. He wasn't scared or angry, though; in fact, he was looking forward to it.

"I'll be like Superman, right? Can you see it? There'll be a robbery, and the guys'll be all like, 'get down!' and I'll be all like 'make me!' and they'll be all like, BANG, BANG! Two shots right in the leg, that's enough to take down a normal man. But oh no, I'll be all, 'have to do better than that, ladies!' and I'll run over and kick them in the chest with my super leg!" Tyler had said, getting so excited that the nurse who was trying to deliver his dinner had to wait until he was done before she set the tray down, in fear of him knocking it over with his wild gestures. "I mean, sure, most of the time bad guys probably wouldn't shoot me in the leg, but that's what bullet-proof jackets are for."

The kid talked a mile a minute, and once he'd found out that Marty was a 'big, awesome high school football player', he'd talked even more. Despite what Marty thought might be some ADHD tendencies in Tyler, they'd made fast friends, and his sunny disposition kept Marty in one, too. They traded tales of adventure and mischief, laughed about the things they were missing in school, and even told each other a few secrets. After all, age difference or not, they had both seen each other at what would probably be their absolute worst. Overall, Marty considered himself to be in even higher spirits than before the accident.

The closest he came to upset was when his friends would stop by, giving him that uncomfortable, uncertain look as they dropped by their flowers and cards and gifts, and then made tracks to get out of there fast. It looked like a flower shop in the room, and yet his parents were the only people outside Tyler and the nurses that he'd had real conversations with. He wasn't really upset, though; after all, if someone else were in the situation, maybe he would act the way they did, too. Maybe.

As the nurse came in, rolling her eyes as she saw the controller on the floor and wordlessly going to pick it up and hand it to Marty before leaving the room, he glanced over at Tyler, who was smiling brightly. The boy's parents had been there a lot over the weekend while his sister stayed home and looked after his youngest brother, who was only a baby. It was obvious the kid enjoyed his parents enough, but Marty could count on one hand the number of conversations where the emerald-eyed boy hadn't brought up his older sister. With an international race-car driver as a father, Marty couldn't imagine what kind of big sister the girl had to be, to be the family member the younger boy most idolized.

"Hey, hey, are you listening to me?" Tyler demanded, interrupting Marty's thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry, keep going," Marty replied, giving the boy an apologetic smile.

Tyler shrugged it off, the indignation apparently gone. "Like I said, my sister is the only one who ever beat me at this game. One time, she did it with her eyes closed the entire time! She says she'll teach me some of the tricks she knows for the game, but only if I make honor roll this semester."

"So, I finally get to meet this amazing sister of yours today, right?" Marty questioned, laughing as Tyler started up a new game.

Tyler shrugged, eyes now locked on the television screen. "I guess. She's supposed to be here now, but she's always late. Probably got some stupid boyfriend to drive her, they're always trying to impress her. Most of them are jerks."

So, she was good looking. Marty tried not to appear like he was dwelling on that fact, if only for Tyler's sake; after all, it was Marty's bones that were damaged, not his testosterone. And after being stuck in this place with only their grizzly, over-worked, older nurses (and the male nurse who made it a point to be as rough as possible; Marty suspected a masculinity issue), and a few concerned friends, he could surely use a new, pretty girl's face.

They played that stupid Muskrat game for another half an hour, much to Marty's disgust, before a light knock came to their door. "Get decent!" Was the only preparation they had, before in walked… "Well… wow. Last time I saw you, you were helping me lift my battered body off the pavement, where you had just put me. Sort of an ironic turn around."

"Hannah Audley?!"

Awkward.

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There he was. The other teachers that surrounded the table in the small, crowded teacher's lounge glanced nervously at each other as the pounding at the door continued. Bryan Denton simply sat back, looking at his watch before taking the last bite of his sandwich. Yep, the boy was right on time. As always.

"Mr. Denton! I really need to speak to you! Look, I know you're in there. This is very important!" The voice behind the door became louder as the knocking became more persistent.

Finally Denton stood up, nodded to his colleagues, and opened the door just in time to be knocked to the floor by a swift rap to the head. "Mr. Martin, always a pleasure." Poised as ever, though he did make it a point to rub his forehead in the spot that would undoubtedly sport a bruise later, he climbed to his feet to come face to face with the wide-eyed student.

"Sir, I am _so_ sorry. I didn't realize you were going to open the door and I just thought that you might be having trouble hearing the knocking and…" Dee Martin's blue eyes were frantic as he rubbed his hands together, looking even more anxious and fidgety than usual.

Denton rolled his eyes, starting down the hall. "Mr. Martin, I'd be surprised if the entire floor didn't hear you. Listen, I know I said at the beginning of the year that I was always available, but really, every lunch? And for the same reason? You must realize this seems a bit… like overkill."

"Well, Sir, if you'd just say yes, I'd stop bothering you," Dee pointed out, rushing to keep up with the man.

"We've already been over this, Mr. Martin. I'm not writing you a College recommendation letter," Denton said, with an amazing amount of patience.

Dee heaved an exasperated sigh. "But why not? I know you write them; the one you wrote for David Jacobs is the best I've seen. A letter like that is just what I need to really compete on an Ivy League level."

"I only write what I believe in, Mr. Martin. I believe Mr. Jacobs will make an excellent addition to whichever academic institution he decides to attend. You and Mr. Jacobs are not one in the same," Denton said, sharply turning a corner.

Dee very nearly slammed right into it. "Are you saying you don't think I should go to College?

"Watch the corners, son. I'm not saying that at all. But I am saying, that I don't believe you would be the best possible addition to a higher learning community at this point. You have some growing to do." The teacher shrugged, before slipping into his classroom. "But, again, what do I know? Just get another teacher to write your letter for you."

"But I want you," Dee protested. "What growing do I have to do? A 1530 on my SAT's, a 4.2 GPA, a ton of extracurriculars, even volunteer work… I'm the perfect student."

"Academically, yes, you're a good student. But Colleges want more than that, and I'm afraid that you lack necessary… social skills that I feel will be rather important to your success. You plan to major in political science, isn't that right?" He opened his briefcase and began pulling out papers, undoubtedly for the next class.

"Yes, that's right. Hey, is that an exam?" He casually leaned over the desk, peering at the papers.

Denton rolled his eyes and covered them with his briefcase. "Which brings me to my point. I'm going to be frank with you, Mr. Martin. You need to stop being so concerned with your own goals, and start making it a priority to be concerned with your peers. To be a good leader, and a good politician, you need to be personable."

"You're not writing my letter because I'm not popular enough?" Dee demanded.

"Also, because your ethical fiber leaves something to be desired," Denton replied dryly, but then felt a pang of empathy for the boy. "Listen, it's not your popularity. It's that you seem to hold no regard for anyone but yourself. Prove to me that that's not the case, and I'll write your letter."

Dee looked more than mildly unhappy, but shrugged if off. He wanted this letter. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, I'm an English professor; write me a paper. Find a subject, and improve their lives, then tell me how you did it and what you learned. Easy enough, right?" Denton guided the boy to the door. "And, before you ask, those are the only parameters. So, go. Improve. Let me know when you've finished."

"But… But…" Dee suddenly found himself out of the classroom, with Denton smiling at him once more before shutting the door, albeit gently, in his face.

"Of all the stupid… Improve someone's… this is so…" Dee kicked a crumpled piece of paper down the hallway, red-faced as he thought of what had just happened. Him? Not personable? Everyone liked him! He wasn't self-obsessed, just driven. Unlike most of these useless drones, just here to get their diploma and slink off to go work in some car repair garage in Harlem…

"Talking to yourself. Attractive," came a voice from behind, right before he was shoved face-first onto the floor.

"Melody. We've really got to stop meeting like this." Great, just what he needed. Wait… it was just what he needed! "Melody! You're poor, unpopular and generally a boil on society, right?"

"_Excuse me_?" If Dee wasn't so busy picking himself up and mentally patting himself on the back for this brilliant idea, he likely would have noticed Melody's very red face and angry demeanor.

"I can help you! I'll turn you into a productive member of the community. Yes!" Visions of 'My Fair Lady' came dancing through his head – the good parts, that was.

Unfortunately for Dee, in My Fair Lady, the men offering their help were not punched in the face, so he was reasonably unprepared for the event. The hit laid him out against the floor once more, this time leaving him to look up at the rapidly spinning ceiling.

"Moron. Come near me and I'll help you – into the hospital." Turning on her heel, Melody stormed off, leaving Dee to lay in the hallway and likely be trampled when the bell rang.

But unfortunately for Melody Steffanson, Dee was already putting together his plan to turn the girl into a Lady. It would take more than a stupid assignment – and a punch to the face – to keep _him_ out of the college of his choice.

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"Not again!"

Tyler moaned as once again, Hannah beat him badly at the video game. Marty had been playing as well, but had long since given up; trouncing didn't quite cover how badly Hannah had beaten them. For the past ten games.

"What are you guys doing in here, talking about flowers and painting each others' nails all day? Come on, you should be able to kill me in this!" Hannah declared, reaching out to ruffle Tyler's hair as he gave a slight pout.

"I'll never beat you in this. I'm getting a super leg, not super thumbs," Tyler said, and perked up a little bit at his own joke. "Again?"

"Well…" However, they paused when a nurse came in, busily looking over a chart.

"Mr. Audley, time for your meds," she said, before glancing at Hannah. "You can stay, if you want, but…"

"I'll wait over there," the girl replied immediately, not eager to watch her brother get poked and prodded.

Hannah went over and sat in a chair next to Marty's bed while the nurse drew the curtain around Tyler. "Almost forgot we were in a hospital," she said, a bit dryly.

"He won't be here too much longer. Another week or two, right?" Marty offered, feeling the need to cheer the suddenly unhappy girl. She'd been so chipper since she'd gotten here… however, Marty realized rather suddenly, that may have just been for Tyler's benefit. The girl's little brother had nearly died and just had his leg removed; how _chipper_ could she truly be? Still, even he hadn't noticed any sign of wear on the girl until this moment, which he was sure was her intent; she certainly _was_ a good older sister.

"I hope so. Mom and dad have to get back out on the road in about three weeks; I want him settled in by then so I know all about how to take care of him and stuff." Hannah's voice was low, and Marty knew to lower his voice in return.

"I think he'll get better fast. The nurses are all saying how he's the most upbeat kid they've ever seen who's been through… what he's been through. With the whole permanent, missing limb thing." Marty realized halfway through that that might not have been the best thing to say, but it was sort of like a train wreck; he just watched helplessly as the words tumbled from his mouth.

Hannah put her face in her hands, and Marty instantly felt lower than he had since he'd been brought to this place. "Sorry," he managed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Great – now his hair would be sticking up all over the place. So now he wouldn't just be the jerk that had made the pretty girl cry; he'd be the goofy-looking jerk that had made the pretty girl cry.

"No, it's fine. It's true." Hannah took a deep breath and straightened up, and Marty was relieved to see that she was not crying. Close, but not quite; was the whole Audley family just inherently tough, or what?! "I just don't… it's hard, to see him. It's the first time since that day, and now that I see him and it's real and he'll never… I just wish it wasn't this way."

Disjointed as her words were, Marty understood. "At least you have those friends of yours, to help you." She started to cut him off immediately, but he held up his hand. "I mean, not that Tyler's not the focus. But, you should have someone to talk to, too. It's got to be hard on all of you, and you don't want to put all that pressure on yourself and up snapping at somebody who doesn't deserve it, like Tyler."

Seeming to get a bit less defensive, her shoulders sagged slightly. "They try. They just, they don't understand. I want to just make this all go away, to fix this, and for once I can't. I can't make this better for him, and all I can think of is if I had been there, or done something differently… it's not their fault, I just don't think they would understand. I mean, who could?"

"I would." Marty looked just as surprised that he had spoken as she did, but then decided to press on with sudden, newfound courage. "I mean, I do. When he gets out and your parents take off, why not let me help out? I'm not real proud that my best friend is a twelve year old, but he sort of is, now, and if I could help you out, make things easier on the both of you, I'd like to. It would give you somebody to talk to – I mean, I know we're not friends, but I do understand what you're feeling. Besides, it gives me something else to think about besides just trying to get this thing working right again."

As she glanced at his leg, looking guilty, he caught on to her thoughts and shook his head immediately. "Don't worry – I'll be on crutches. Might be a little clumsy, but I can get around. Just, think about it, huh?"

"Okay," she said, but sounded a bit like she thought his medications might be getting to him. "I'm sorry, I never did ask how you were. I just came right over to complain; how much of a jerk am I?"

"No, I'm glad," he said, and then went wide-eyed at inadvertently calling her jerk. However, he relaxed a bit when she laughed lightly. "I mean, I'm glad you talked to me like a normal person. You guys are the first people to treat me normally; makes me feel a little better, actually."

She gave a hesitant smile. "Well, you _are_ normal – or at least, getting there."

"Yeah, I guess so. Though, if you wanted to take it easy on a poor, crippled jock and let me win a few times at the video games…" She really laughed, then, and he couldn't help but crack into a grin of his own. "Just thought I'd put that out there."

"I'll bet you did – but, not a chance. Nice try, though." They smiled at each other, in a moment of comfortable silence, before Tyler's curtains were pulled back and the nurse left the room, marking things off on that clipboard of hers.

"I'm not going to miss the shots," Tyler said, as Hannah stood and walked back over to him. He looked a bit ashen, and slightly in pain, but still managed to have that silly grin of his as his sister kissed his forehead and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What were you guys talking about? I tried to listen, but that nurse kept getting in my way and jabbing me with stuff. Tell her to be nicer next time, Hann," he complained.

"We were talking about your super leg," Marty replied, to which Tyler smiled even wider. "I figured I should probably let you tell her the story about how you'll use it to fight crime, though."

"Thanks," Tyler nodded, and Hannah shot him a secret smile over her brother's head. Marty quite suddenly felt that, as he looked at them and felt a strong sense of belonging with the tight duo, this might not have been the worst thing to happen to him, after all. And he couldn't help but laugh as Tyler started in on his story again.

"So, like, there'll be a robbery, right? And the robbers, they'll be all like, 'get down!' and I'll be all like…"

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**Coming Up in Chapter 8:** David and Rose find out they have something in common, much to Jack's dismay, and Justine finds that life as a senior is a little more confusing - and overwhelming - then she'd anticipated. All that and more, next time! Stay tuned!


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